


Exodus

by rubyhardflames



Series: The Otherworlder [3]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Action/Adventure, Culture Talk, Ethnic OC, Eventual Romance, Hints of Crushing, Hurt/Comfort, Modern Girl in Thedas, Self-Discovery, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2018-10-22 20:36:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 65,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10704621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyhardflames/pseuds/rubyhardflames
Summary: His name is Corypheus, and he shattered her world in a single night. Now she must pick up the pieces at Skyhold as Inquisitor, all the while struggling to decide how she feels about the Inquisition's newest member.





	1. Moment of Truth

The ambience of the war room was ageless and cunning, a testing ground of ideas and strategies and plans. Though it had only been in use for as long as the new Inquisition, already it felt like a place where history had made its mark. And ever since Ahnnie's latest absence, it now seemed to burn with an even greater purpose - she could feel it as the mounting tension in the air, in the very thrum of her veins and the passionate voices around her.

"It's not a matter for debate," Commander Cullen said with finality. "There will be abominations among the mages, and we must be prepared!"

"If we rescind the nature of the alliance, it makes the Inquisition appear incompetent at best, tyrannical at worse," Lady Josephine reminded him, crisply.

Madame Vivienne's smooth and chocolatey voice countered the ambassador primly, a hint of resentment in every syllable. "But since Fiona and her malcontents are joining us as allies rather than conscripts, regrettable as that is, precautions have become necessary. Abominations are inevitable."

Ahnnie knew this conversation was coming, one way or another. The nature of the mages' inclusion had still been unknown while on the way back to Haven; it was only several days before coming close to the little mountain village that she and Cassandra came to an accord. Surprisingly enough, the Seeker acquiesced to the girl's wishes. It did not happen immediately, but Ahnnie's supplications, delivered to the best of her ability, eventually won over. It was an accomplishment the likes of which Ahnnie never thought could happen with someone as stoic as Cassandra, but now she knew the woman wasn't as emotionally immovable as she seemed. The result became public knowledge moments after arriving at Haven's gates and prompted the war room meeting they now attended.

"What were you thinking, turning mages loose with no oversight?" Cullen snapped at the girl. "Might I remind you, the _Veil_ is torn open!"

Ahnnie met his disapproval with as level a gaze as she could muster. "I understand what you're saying," she said, "but we need their help to close the Breach. It would be better if they were treated as equals rather than criminals."

The Commander shook his head. "I _know_ we need them for the Breach, but they could do as much damage as the demons themselves!" To Cassandra, he reproached, "You were there, Seeker! Why didn't you intervene?"

"While I may not completely agree with the decision, I support it," Cassandra replied evenly. "The sole point of the Herald's mission was to gain the mages' aid, and that was accomplished."

Suddenly, the door burst open and the attendees were graced with a flamboyant exclamation: "The voice of pragmatism speaks! And here I was just starting to enjoy the circular arguments."

Everyone turned around to find a dark haired, olive skinned mage standing in the doorway, an artful grin displayed beneath his well-groomed mustache. Beside him an Inquisition soldier made her flustered way into the room to address the meeting.

"Dorian Pavus, sers," the soldier announced belatedly, before withdrawing altogether and closing the door behind her.

A puzzled silence enveloped the air, to be broken by Madame Vivienne a few seconds later. "Magic is dangerous, just as fire is dangerous," she warned with a suspicious eye trained on Dorian. "Anyone who forgets this truth gets burned."

"Closing the Breach is all that matters," Cassandra reiterated.

"Besides, we have templars here," Ahnnie added with optimism. "They can still help. We should bring them together and head down to the Breach as soon as possible."

Lady Josephine's bronzed skin flashed in the candlelight as she gave her nod of assent. "Agreed."

"There are not enough templars to handle incidents," Vivienne interposed. "Some of the rank and file need to be trained."

"They will have to make do," Cassandra said. "Training would only take up more time than we have the luxury to spare, a problem for us even with conscripts."

The spymaster, previously silent, expressed her contemplation in a grave voice at both Ahnnie and Dorian in turn: "We should also look into the things you saw in this 'dark future'. The assassination of Empress Celene? A demon army? Otherworldly technology?" In addition to being forewarned of the rebel mages' arrival, Leliana had also been thoroughly informed of the pair's account. Unlike others, who were mostly concerned with the Elder One, she took the aforementioned details very seriously.

"Sounds like something a Tevinter cult might do," Dorian remarked, hilariously sarcastic to the point of glee. "Orlais falls, the Imperium rises. Chaos for everyone!"

Cullen sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "One battle at a time," he pleaded. "It's going to take time to organize our troops and the mage recruits. And I know there's not much of it to be spared for extra training, but a contingency plan should be put into place - you can't deny the possibility of abominations, regardless of how you view the mages."

"Indeed," Vivienne affirmed, "the Commander speaks wisely. You'd do well to listen to him, my dear."

Her condescending tone stung. "Of course," Ahnnie nodded, understanding of the logic presented before her; what she was not so comfortable with was the offhanded way with which the mages were mentioned, as though they were unstable and clueless children. But there was no point in stirring up dissent now over that one opinion.

If such views bothered Dorian at all, the Tevinter mage did not show it. "My services are available for this endeavor, should you choose to accept them," he offered. "I would like to see this Breach up close."

Ahnnie blinked in surprise. "Then you're staying?" He had traveled back with them to give testimony on Alexius, but she assumed he would eventually return to Tevinter like Felix had done.

His perfect brows went up in astonishment. "Oh, didn't I mention it? The South is _so_ charming and rustic. I adore it to little pieces."

Ironically put or not, his words brought a smile to her face. "There's no one I'd rather be stranded in time with, future or present," said Ahnnie, delightedly.

"Excellent choice!" Dorian laughed. "But let's not get 'stranded' anytime again soon, yes?"

Cassandra let them have their moment, listening to their exchange with the subtlest hint of a smirk. "I am glad it delights the both of you so," she said once they were done. "Your services will be welcome, Dorian Pavus, so long as you show no sign of betraying the Inquisition to Tevinter. Do not think we are lax with you now just because you saved the Herald."

Dorian nodded, serious this time. "You have my word, Lady Cassandra."

"Well, then." Cullen rolled his great shoulders as he bent down to examine the map, hands planted squarely at its edges. "I'll begin preparations to march on the summit. Give me three days at the least, a week at most. Maker willing, the mages will be enough to grant us victory."

Madame Vivienne shifted closer to the long table with her arms crossed. "Let us hope for the best," she said, though not quite happily.

"A new path was cleared through the pass towards the northeast," Leliana mentioned. "It'll save us a considerable amount of time and eliminate the need for detouring around that troublesome west bend..."

* * *

 

The rebel mages were put to work as soon as they were able.

Almost immediately after the meeting, those who were healthy enough were organized and split into different ranks. And as soon as the day after, they were practicing drills with the mages already at Haven under the watchful eyes of Enchanter Fiona and Madame Vivienne. It would have been difficult to miss them, training out on an open field outside Haven. Ahnnie had gone there after a sweat-inducing workout with Corporal Hargrave just to see what a magic army would look like.

Dressed in plain yet smartly fitting leather armor, the mages seemed no different from the Inquisition soldiers except for their staves. The drills were a combination of target practice, mana strengthening, and (of course) mental exercises on how to keep one's mind guarded against demonic temptation, courtesy of Madame Vivienne. To Ahnnie, however, it seemed mostly a repeated lecture on the dangers of magic and corruptibility of mages.

All in all, things seemed to go well. Fiona and Vivienne hadn't been at each other's throats, which was what she thought at first might happen. They were actually being quite civil with one another, even if coldly. She returned to Haven after growing bored watching the largely uneventful mental exercises and let out a sigh of satisfaction as the crisp Frostback wind cooled her forehead. In a wistful mood, _Winter Wonderland_ started playing in her head.

Humming through the chorus, Ahnnie strolled for the Singing Maiden to see how Netta and the pups were getting along. _They should be ten or eleven weeks by now? They'll have been weaned since I was last here. Has Charley's ear pointed up yet?_ But alas, the answers to those questions were to be postponed as Flissa, regrettably, informed her of the little girl's fever.

"She's to stay in bed on Adan's orders, for at least another day or two," the innkeeper said. "The dogs in the meantime are staying with Nala, if you want to go see them. Oh, there's been two letters for you from Ostwick as well. They came before you left for the Storm Coast, but I couldn't get them to you in time. Would you like them now?"

"Yes, please." She waited patiently while Flissa went round the back to retrieve them, and took up the folded parchments with a smile. "Thanks again, Flissa. I promise to repay you when I can. You deserve it for all the hard work you do."

"Goodness. You're always saying that. Never you mind about paying me anything," Flissa scolded. "I don't do what I do expecting a reward for every little action. No more about this from you, you hear?"

Ahnnie could promise nothing in that regard, but played along anyway. She bid the innkeeper farewell and sent her best wishes to Netta before exiting the tavern and resuming from _later on, we'll conspire; as we dream, by the fire..._

Visiting the puppies was next on her list of things to do, but the skittish healer's assistant was unavailable. Oh well. She still had plenty of time, and the letters in her hand were growing more tempting by the minute. Sweeping off some snow from a low stone wall, Ahnnie plopped her bottom down and broke open the seal to the earliest marked letter.

_Dear Ahnnie,_

_I've heard of what happened with the Templars in Val Royeaux...I don't know what to say. I'm in awe, and...well, my family is not very happy, as you may know. It was bad enough hearing that the Templars deserted the Chantry. To find that they've allowed a demon to pose as Lord Seeker is just..._

_Sorry. I'm getting ahead of myself. It must have been horrific, what you had to experience - I wish I had been there. It frustrates me to no end, knowing you're out there risking your life while I'm just here in Ostwick, biding my time!_

_I hope we can meet again soon. The Inquisition presence at the Grand Cathedral is very encouraging. Father speaks less ill of you than he used to. Opinions are changing, slowly but surely._

_Best Wishes,_

_Eliana_

Ahnnie felt a surge of excitement upon reading the last paragraph. _If we do well enough, Evelyn can actually come!_ She folded the first letter away before picking up the second, wondering what its contents would entail?

Judging by the postdate, it was written a day after the first one. Puzzled, Ahnnie unfolded it to find that it was a list of titles. Then she realized they were the titles of books authored by Varric. At the end of the list was a postscript:

_I forgot to include this for you in my previous letter, when clearly you had requested it in your last reply! What a nitwit I am! Please forgive me._

_Also, since you mentioned it, I picked up a copy of_ Swords and Shields _. It's not bad at all. A little cheesy, but...well now I'm hooked. You should definitely give it a try and see if you can't get the author to sign it for you._

Ahnnie smiled and folded the paper back into place, tucking both letters neatly into the confines of her close-fitting coat. _If I write a letter now, I can expect it to ship out sometime tomorrow or after tomorrow..._ she wasn't sure if Ostwick had heard of the latest events in Redcliffe yet, so she supposed it could be the subject of her reply. But then by the time Evelyn received it, the news might already be the talk of the Free Marches. _Oh well. At least she'll get to read my version of it. Speaking of which, I wonder if I can ask her about Cole...?_

By god. Why on earth had she never thought of that before? The Trevelyan was a spirit mage, for Christ's sake. Who better to ask about Cole outside of the companions than her?

Jumping to her feet, Ahnnie dashed down the path towards her cabin. It was going to be a long letter she would be sending to Ostwick.

* * *

 

Time eventually caught up to her, between the harried lessons with Hargrave, visits to Netta, checking in on the mages, and playtime with the puppies, when an Inquisition soldier informed her of the impending march to the Breach not more than two days away. The word came five days after the meeting, fitting snugly within the time frame Commander Cullen had promised. It was an announcement made loud and clear to all those who resided in Haven and stirred such a wave of optimism that the townspeople held a feast in the Singing Maiden that same night.

Pooped out from another long day, Ahnnie declined to attend the feast, choosing instead to have a quiet dinner in her cabin. _All that we went through, in the Hinterlands and Val Royeaux and the Storm Coast and Redcliffe, to come to this moment..._ it was an unimaginable yet awe-inspiring thought. And it was a wonder to her that anyone could cheer through the night in the face of such a daunting task. Then again, she was the only one who held the key to stopping the Breach; she might as well be the only one who felt this way.

_And say I do seal the Breach successfully...what comes next?_

A knock at the door broke that chain of thought as suddenly as a hammer fall. _Who could it be?_ Ahnnie wondered instead, and got up to open the door with a puzzled frown.

"Oh! Solas!" she exclaimed with a jolt.

The elven mage smiled. "You were not expecting me," he guessed. "I apologize. But you were absent at the tavern..."

 _So that's where you were tonight?_ It was hard for her to imagine the bald elf in the Singing Maiden, eating and drinking amongst the local populace...but then they must have accepted him by now, just as they came to accept the rebel mages. "Please, come in," she invited. "You don't have to take off your shoes," she added when he spotted the boots by the doorway. "It's just me, really."

"Thank you," he said a moment later. "I'll just be sitting by the fire for a bit. No need, I'm not hungry," he declined when she made to offer him a bowl of stew. There being only one chair, which she was currently using, Solas settled instead on the edge of her bed. "So," he began. "Are you ready?"

"For what?" Though she knew what it was about before he even spoke.

"For the Breach. In the next two days, it will be sealed once and for all. Can you imagine it?"

Ahnnie slowly lowered herself into her chair with an equally slow shake of her head. "No, it's...it's always been something that was so...far away. 'We need to seal the Breach; it must be dealt with ASAP; the longer it stays, the more danger we're in' - that's what I kept hearing, and I believe in it too, but...now that it comes down to it..."

"Are you afraid?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

Solas' eyes sparkled thoughtfully as he gazed into hers, as if in search for a hidden truth she was trying to conceal. "You hold a lot inside you, da'len," he said at last, "more than I think is good for you. You'll ask about others, immerse yourself in their experiences, but when it comes to divulging your own you are worse than the stingiest miser."

"I-I...what?" she stuttered, unable to discern whether he was insulting her or trying to help her.

"Except for our first serious talk about Thedas, it has always taken outside initiation to get you to open up on your thoughts. After Envy and what recently happened in Redcliffe, you still haven't expressed yourself to anyone, where naturally a few confidences here and there would have occurred." He gave her a pointed look. "There is more that you are not saying, and I can tell. Many of the others too, for that matter."

Her mouth worked like a broken hinge in finding a reply, until at last she shook her head. "I think you're mistaken. I didn't come to the tavern because I was tired, not because..."

"But one can still think and feel, even when tired." He looked at her beseechingly. "Do you trust in me so little? If there are any questions you have, or any concerns, it would be best to get them off your chest before you head to the Temple of Sacred Ashes. They may not be gone completely, but you will feel much better."

In the face of such a heartfelt plea, she felt guilty. "Well..." She idly poked the meat in her stew with her chopsticks. "I guess I do have a question..."

"Go on."

"After the Breach is stopped..." Ahnnie frowned. "What, exactly, happens next?"

"The Inquisition will try to broker peace between the templars and mages, of course," Solas answered. "And if possible, discover who this enigmatic Elder One is."

"Okay, but where do I fit into all of that? Once the Breach is gone, and there's no more need to use my mark...will I just be..." She gulped. "...cast aside?"

Solas stared at her awhile in shock before breaking into choppy laughter. "Oh - oh no, da'len, you're - well, you're not wrong in feeling concerned," he assured her, "but that is - no, the Inquisition would never dream of it. They're more honorable than that, and the people would never let them be if they were to suddenly cast the Herald of Andraste aside. When, if ever, your mark finds itself unemployed, I think you'll find a decent if not comfortable existence awaiting you here."

She raised a questioning eyebrow. "If ever?"

"Sealing the Breach does not mean the rifts throughout Thedas will suddenly disappear," he pointed out. "New ones will stop appearing, but the current ones will continue to exist until you close them. There's no telling how many rifts have been opened, so your mark will be in use for some time, I'm sure."

 _I see_ , she thought, staring dazedly into the fire. _So I'll still have more work to do._

Mistaking her contemplative silence for confusion, Solas launched into a more thorough explanation: "The Breach is a hole in the Veil that acts as a conduit for opening rifts. When you seal the Breach, you bring the Veil back into balance and seal away the Fade from the waking world for good. Thus, no more new rifts."

She was about to tell him that she understood the first time around, until the weight of what he said dawned upon her. "Wait, so...there'll be no way to enter the Fade physically?"

"No. There has never been a way until you came. Why do you..." He paused, his face blanching. "Oh. Oh dear...in all of the excitement, I had forgotten about...I didn't think you wanted..."

She held up a hand to stop him. "It's okay," she said. "I didn't even think about it until now."

He looked at her helplessly, then down at the stone floor. For the first time ever, she saw him wring his hands. "I am so sorry, da'len. I wish I could tell you it is possible, but once the Breach is sealed, it is not an easy feat to tear another hole in the Veil. Even then the chances of surviving physically in the Fade are very rare; and the chances of finding an exit to another world, even rarer; it was a miracle you were able to find your way here in the first place."

Ahnnie swallowed. "I know," was her strained answer.

A weighty silence fell between them, and for a while the only sound anyone registered was the crackling of the fire. _Should've seen it coming,_ she sighed. Even so, she had been aware of this deep down. She just wouldn't give voice to it; she refused to. Yet every time she spoke or thought of going home, she knew it to be an empty promise, something to say to make her sound driven, an incentive with no backing. To have it confirmed now in technical terms was not so very strange, just...depressing.

Suddenly Solas began to rise, snapping Ahnnie out of her reverie. "You should rest," he said to her, a pitying smile softening his features. "You will be busy tomorrow."

She bit down on her lower lip as a pang of sharp yet sweet emotions stung her. Sticking her chopsticks into the cube of meat she had been toying with, Ahnnie rose to close the gap between them. "Hahren," she began with a hand on his arm, for he was too tall for her to reach his shoulder, "please don't feel bad about this. It's not your fault. What matters is that I deal with the Breach first; after that, I can worry about finding a way home." She smiled encouragingly at him. "You promised to help me with my magic, remember? Maybe we'll find something then."

But the expression on his face seemed a mix of pain and confusion. If she had to choose an adjective to describe it, she would say 'wounded' - perhaps even 'guilty'. Ahnnie wondered why that would be and searched the familiar corners and curves of his visage for the answers, though she knew not what she expected to find. "Perhaps," he let out at last, his voice barely above a whisper. "Good night, da'len." Then, unexpectedly, he bent his head forward to plant a light kiss against her forehead.

Ahnnie was still baffled at his reaction hours after his departure. She spent the last few minutes before sleep overtook her pondering the reasons for his sadness other than a strong sense of empathy. _Because i_ _f I'm not mistaken,_ she thought with a frown, _he seemed even more devastated than me._

* * *

 

Two days is not an awfully long time to wait. Not when one's schedule is kept tight, and especially not when one counts the days upon rising from bed. _The day after tomorrow_ quickly becomes _tomorrow,_ which in turn becomes _today._

That fateful morning, Seeker Cassandra found Ahnnie awake, armed, and dressed, but engrossed in reminiscence over her journal, pajamas, and orthopaedic shoe. The girl was not surprised to find Cassandra at the door, however, and put nostalgia aside the moment the woman entered and announced herself. She left the cabin with her possessions spread out on her bed so that she might enjoy them later.

All of Haven were witness to the Herald's arrival at the Chantry, where a few certain things were to be performed before marching to the Temple. First was the donning of a dark leather armor on her person, imprinted with the symbol of the Inquisition in gray thread as a finishing touch by the local tanner. Next was a series of prayers and blessings performed by the Chantry sisters, headed by Mother Giselle.

"Maker be with you," the gentle Mother finished, touching Ahnnie's forehead with cool and fragrant fingers - right where Solas had kissed her, coincidentally enough - before going on to give the rest of her company the same holy gestures.

"Don't need none of that, thanks," Sera swerved away as Mother Giselle came close, making a face and quite effectively ruining the moment.

When the formalities were finished, they exited to find the bulk of their force headed by Commander Cullen on one side and Enchanter Fiona on the other standing ready and grave in the falling snow. With a single nod from Seeker Cassandra, the soldiers and mages shaped themselves into formation and began to march for Haven's gates.

"Wait!" The little voice pierced the air as suddenly as thunder.

Ahnnie whirled around. "Netta!" she cried, and intercepted the child before she lost herself amongst the taller legs. "What are you doing here? You just got better-"

Netta thrust a spiny pinecone into her face, cupped gently in her hands as though it were a delicate treasure. "The flowers haven't come yet, so this was the only thing I could find. But look! Isn't it the most perfect one you ever saw?"

Ahnnie laughed. "Yes, it is. Thank you," and she took the pinecone into her own hands. "Now go back inside! Your mama won't be happy if you got sick again."

Even after Haven had disappeared from view, the sweet little gesture felt as fresh as though it had occurred mere seconds ago. Ahnnie clasped the gift close in both hands and looked down upon it occasionally with a smile on her face.

"And with the great pinecone in hand, a mighty sword in the other, the Herald of Andraste did smite the Breach from the sky," Varric recited as though reading from an epic. "How much are you willing to bet that's going into some biography of yours?"

Ahnnie gave him an amused sidelong glance. "I don't know. I don't have any money."

But even if she did, all the money in the world could never have assuaged the growing weight in her chest as the Temple of Sacred Ashes drew near. Leliana's calculations brought them to it faster than before, and even under all the snow, Ahnnie still recognized the ashen pathway of the dead she had walked through so many months ago. Some of the mummies had been eroded or broken by the harsh winds, but most still stood intact with their eternal terror to haunt her soul all over again. She took a deep breath and clutched the pinecone closer to her chest.

The world darkened for a minute as the procession filed through the little tunnel leading into the Temple ruins, its torches long extinguished. When the world brightened again, it was not with the milky white light of cloudy skies reflecting against snow. Rather, it was the electric green flare of the swirling Breach, as tall and menacing as it had been the first time she beheld it. Ahnnie's eyes were transfixed upon it as she was led down the winding steps to the crater by Cassandra and Solas, while the other companions and soldiers and mages took up positions around the ruined chamber.

Her left hand began to tingle as soon as her feet touched the crater's charred gravel, and she whipped it away from the pinecone to find her mark bursting alive, crackling and spitting as though in delight of meeting the Breach again. _Ready to face your maker?_ Ahnnie asked it with some amusement. But if it had a response, it was one she couldn't understand.

A firm hand pressed her shoulder. Ahnnie turned to find Solas nodding gravely at her. "Go now," he said. "We will be right behind you."

She clenched the hand holding the pinecone tighter and returned the nod. Then with another deep breath, she forged ahead into the center of the crater. The Breach's base swirled wildly around her, whipping up gravel and hair like the onset of a cyclone. She raised her flaring hand as she went, palm forward, to both shield her face and allow its magic to create the beam that would close it all. Its electric sizzling increased with every step.

While she was thus occupied, the Seeker and hedge mage turned to the people assembled above. They were arranged as strategically as possible around the curve of the crater, the mages with their staffs in hand, the templars and regular soldiers sandwiching them with wary weapons. Madame Vivienne replaced Enchanter Fiona as head of the mages this time around, her serpentine staff glittering coldly as she supervised their ranks. Mixed in between were the Chargers, and flanking either side were the archers.

"Mages!" Cassandra shouted, capturing their attention.

"Focus past the Herald!" Solas instructed them. "Let her will draw from you."

Upon that command, Madame Vivienne sank her staff into the ground and knelt as she channeled her mana. One by one, the other mages followed suit, and the air became alive with the thrum of magic. Their power and thoughts coagulated in an unseen mass that Ahnnie suddenly felt within her as a surge of energy, dazzling and vibrant. As she had felt it happen before, the fire stirred in her belly and shot forward from the mark. A brilliant beam snaked away from her hand to coil around the center of the Breach, beautiful and perilous in its wild dance.

The air sang with a ringing melody as the two forces collided. The groan and splintering of the Breach was the percussion, the screeching gale the woodwinds, the snapping crackle the strings. The little figures in the ruins below were the conductors, moving the song from chord to undulating chord as it played through the snowy mountain air. Their symphony amassed into a powerful crescendo, stronger and stronger until it was a deafening fortissimo.

Then, in one great crash, it was over.

The Breach exploded with an earth-shaking boom, sweeping across the Temple in a vast sonic wave that sent everyone flying to the ground. Smoke and dust clouded the air and invaded the lungs. Shaken, dazed, the people struggled to their feet. Cassandra was the first one up, shoving past coughing mages and dizzy soldiers to the darkened crater, now silent save for the wind.

In its concave center right where the Breach had once been knelt a small and hunched figure, long black hair flying in the breeze. Approaching her from behind, Cassandra fished Ahnnie back to reality with a hand on her shoulder. "You did it," the Seeker breathed.

The girl rose to her feet and cast a sweeping gaze over the Temple of Sacred Ashes. The sky above, though still swirling with storm, was no longer plagued by any shade of green. And through the ringing and popping in her ears, through the hissing keen of the wind, the cheers of happy men and women replaced the crashing roars of the Breach.

"I did it, indeed," Ahnnie breathed. Turning round to the cheering congregation, she thrust up her left hand in a fist and shouted, "We _all_ did it!"

It was a triumph worthy of legend, one that would no doubt be spoken and sung of for generations to come. But that was not on Ahnnie's mind at the moment. She'd done it; finally, after all that she'd been through, after all the fights and talks and blood, sweat, and tears...she'd sealed the Breach without incident, and along with it, the door to her way home.

* * *

 

Music echoed through the mountains that night, sprightly and festive as a new holiday. Laughter and singing filled all of Haven and its tiers burned bright with merry bonfires. The scent of roasting food and heady alcohol carried on the wind, stimulating the senses both emotional and physical. Only a fool would turn away from it in disgust, and a coldhearted one, at that.

Ahnnie was neither a fool nor coldhearted. Solas himself confirmed the Breach was gone, the Veil brought back into balance; even without his word, evidence could be seen in the scarred but calm heavens. The threat of demons and catastrophe was over.

" _Woohoohoo!_ " Sera cheered as she swung down a flight of stairs, landing beside Ahnnie in the middle tier. "Lookit you, all glowy with your Heraldness! Now that's some _good_ magic, if I ever saw any. How's it feel, eh?"

"Like a good time to get stinking drunk," Krem put in from behind them, drawing their attention. He flashed a brilliant white smile. "Chief's already halfway there. If your ears feel like they're getting raped by a dying cow mooing through a rusty trumpet, that's him."

Ahnnie laughed. "Oh c'mon, his singing can't be _that_ bad! Anyway, drinks sound good. I'll head over to the Singing Maiden and get us some."

Krem stopped her before she could leave, however. "Ah-ah! Drinks're on me tonight. Just sit back and tell me what you want." When she tried to insist, he said, "It's all right, I just got paid."

With a smug smile Ahnnie untied a pouch from her belt and held it before him, its contents jingling. "So did I."

Sera let out of squeal of delight. "I want an ale! The largest mug they've got!"

"You got it," Ahnnie winked. "And is it a beer or whisky for you, Krem?"

He tried to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't relent. She even tried to dash off for the tavern when he moved to push her hand down. "Just one beer then," he conceded, "but I'm paying for the next round!"

"If I'll let you!" she called back over her shoulder with a laugh, already on her merry way the moment she heard the word "beer". As she jogged past the singing and dancing people, declining invitations to join left, right, and center, she almost missed the thick trunk of ginger chest hair standing in the middle of her path.

"Easy there, o great Pinecone Wielder," Varric exclaimed before she could run into him. "Spare me from your prickly wrath, for I have done no wrong."

Ahnnie paused and then laughed. "We shall see about that," she joked, "but in all seriousness, I lost the pinecone after the Breach exploded. I think I may have crushed it too while I was going in."

He shrugged. "Well, hey, it served its purpose. On your way to the tavern?"

"Yup. You want anything? I got the money."

"Nah, I'm good," he said, raising his flask to show her.

She nodded and turned to move away, but then stopped, remembering something. She took up the pouch again and opened it to dig through the coins inside, withdrawing the amount she believed appropriate. "Here," she handed them to Varric. "For the stew and two ales."

"Wha-" The dwarf stared in astonishment at the proffered money. "Do I look like a debtor to you?" he asked at last.

Ahnnie pushed them forward anyway. "Humor me. This is my last day as a freeloader...it's the least you could do."

He gave her a curious glance, which he held for a long while. She stared right back at him, willing to wait for as long as it took. "All right," he sighed, and opened up his free palm.

But before the money could switch hands, warning bells frantically tolled over Haven. Startled, Ahnnie dropped the coins into Varric's hand and perked up instinctively in the bells' direction. They both thought at first that it might be a mistake, the action of some drunken dimwit in the watchtowers; but then Commander Cullen's voice cut through the tolls, instilling both dread and urgency within those who heard it.

"Forces approaching! To arms!"

And just like that, the songs were snuffed out of existence, the laughter dying, the merriment gone. Ahnnie and Varric exchanged a brief glance before dashing off to the gates.

They arrived to find Cassandra and the advisors gathered amongst the soldiers, faces grim. "Cullen?" Ahnnie asked, breathlessly.

"One watchguard reporting," he was saying to Josephine. "It's a massive force, the bulk over the mountain."

"Under what banner?" Josephine inquired.

"None."

"None?" she repeated in disbelief.

Cassandra grimaced as she listened to the bells. "Maker's breath. Just when we closed the Breach!"

The doors of the gate suddenly started banging beneath the fist of some harried outsider. Startled, Ahnnie whipped out her glaive, pointing it threateningly at the vibrating doors.

"I can't come in unless you open!" the muffled voice of whoever it was cried.

Cullen signalled for them all to stand ready as they listened for the stranger. At the same time, the gate guards held their levers steady, waiting for the Commander's instructions. So far, it seemed like only one person. The banging continued undisturbed, and the voice pleaded them with a greater ferocity.

"Please!" he cried again. "You need to open-"

Open they did, and the stranger fell through with an unceremonious yelp. Blades and arrows pointed at him, threatening to pierce the life from him should he make a false move.

But one blade did not join the others. Ahnnie's glaive lowered instead at the sight of the tattered young man before them. As if in response, he looked up and stared at her with wide, blue-gray eyes.

"Cole!" she whispered.


	2. The Siege of Haven

"Stop!" Ahnnie shouted, surprising everyone. "Put down your weapons - I know him!"

Astounded stares met her at every corner, which she received with a firm conviction. But of course no one listened to her order. "And who might he be?" Cassandra asked her suspiciously.

"He's Cole. He's the guy I told you about at the Seeker fortress, but no one remembered seeing him." She opened her mouth to add the fact that he had helped her escape Envy's hold over her mind, but then thought better of it.

Noting the inconsistency, the Seeker subjected Ahnnie to a harsh scrutiny for several seconds before turning over to Cole. She tilted her head questioningly but did not remove her blade. "Is that so? And what have you come for this time, Cole?" she asked, sharp as ice.

Cole rose to his feet and gave his shaky answer to Ahnnie. His pale eyes bore into hers, round with fear. "I came to warn you," he gasped. "To help! People are coming to hurt you."

His response elicited a murmured conversation between Cullen, Leliana, and Josephine. Ahnnie looked from them to Cassandra and back at Cole again, shaking her head in confusion. "Cole? I don't understand..."

"The Templars come to _kill_ you," he stressed.

"But there're no more Templars," Ahnnie argued, "except for the ones who..."

"Were corrupted by red lyrium," Varric finished for her as she trailed off. "Shit. This is...this is bad."

Commander Cullen whipped his head away from the other advisors upon hearing mention of templars and red lyrium. " _Those_ Templars?" he asked in disbelief. "Are we so sure this isn't some rebel faction from the Hinterlands we haven't gotten rid of yet?"

Cole shook his head. "The Red Templars come under the Elder One. You know him; he knows you. You took his mages."

Something chafed irritably within Ahnnie upon hearing that. _His mages,_ as if the mages from Redcliffe were nothing more than mere objects to be possessed. But of a more pressing concern was the Elder One. It would be the third time she'd heard his name uttered by someone outside the Inquisition now. _And t_ _hird time's the charm..._ she wondered just what sort of charm that would be.

"He's _very_ angry that you took his mages," Cole reiterated, full of dread. A distant sound suddenly startled him, causing him to whirl around and point at a rocky outcropping far beyond the walls of Haven. "There."

They followed his finger to the silhouette of an armored man beneath the cold moon. It was rather difficult to tell from their distance, but a gaunt face could be made out in the white light as well as the tint of red on his armor.

"I know that man," Cullen murmured, frowning. "But this Elder One..."

Just as he spoke the name a taller, twisted mockery of the human form appeared beside the armored man. Moonlight glittered upon the jagged growths of red crystal protruding from his skull and enhanced the contours of his thin, elongated ribs, left curiously unprotected. Both figures stood watching the valley below from their perch. Behind them, snaking through the mountain pass, were the winking torchlights of an approaching mass.

"That's him," Cole affirmed.

 _That's the Elder One?_ Ahnnie wondered as she stared aghast at the twisted figure. "We..." She turned to Cullen. "We need a plan! Now!"

"Haven is no fortress," he told her grimly. "If we are to withstand this monster, we must control the battle." He turned to the soldiers surrounding Cole and waved them off. "This boy is the least of our concerns right now. Get out there and hit that force; use everything you can! Mages! You..." Cullen suddenly caught himself, unused to commanding forces of the arcane variety. "You have sanction to engage them. That man up there is Samson. He will not make it easy!"

Cassandra drew her sword away from Cole and thrust it up into the air. "Inquisition!" she cried. "With the Herald! For your lives; for all of us!"

The soldiers and mages answered the bold commands almost immediately, pouring out through the open gate before scattering like leaves to meet the threat. Josephine ran back into Haven while Ahnnie followed close behind Cassandra, Cullen, Varric, and Leliana, glaive held ready whilst listening to their harried plans. They had to be mindful of where they rushed, for people ran in all directions before them and not all were soldiers; Ahnnie recognized Harritt the blacksmith frantically making off with as many possessions as possible, while Dennet and some stablehands were in the process of removing the horses to a nearby, more defensible storm shelter.

In the midst of it all, she nearly forgot about the silent young man running beside her.

"Oh!" she exclaimed in surprise - even more surprising was the fact that neither of the others, previously engaged in threatening him, seemed to notice he was right behind them. "You look much better than last time," she remarked, noting the absence of bruises on his face. His tunic still had the slit where Lord Seeker Lucius stabbed him, though. "How's your shoulder?"

"It's...fine," he replied, slightly surprised. "Sometimes it gets a little achy."

"Right," she nodded, and skidded to a stop as Leliana brought them before a large trebuchet north of the walls.

"We can hinder their advance if we fire from the north and south trebuchets," the spymaster said. "Cullen, you and Cassandra should stay to oversee the north one. I will go with Varric and the Herald to the south one."

Just then, several cries went up from the hill below the siege engine, alerting them to the presence of some of the enemy within fighting distance. If they were to successfully conduct Leliana's plan, they had best do it now. Without another word, Ahnnie split away from the Seeker and Commander to join the spymaster and rogue dwarf - and of course, Cole. She noticed him last minute from the corner of her eye, following them as urgently as though he had been included in the strategy.

 _Weird, I forgot about him there for a sec._ "You don't mind if he comes along?" Ahnnie asked Leliana as they ran, pointing with her thumb at Cole.

"Who?" the spymaster frowned, and then looked to where she indicated. A flash of surprise rippled across her face, but was short-lived. "As long as he can fight, it doesn't matter at this point."

"I can fight," Cole affirmed, a hand brushing against a dagger hilt at his side.

Varric gave the young man a sidelong glance followed by a raised brow. "Strange friend of yours," he remarked. "Awful quiet, too."

"He was anything _but_ quiet," Ahnnie murmured to herself. _Just wait till you feel some sort of pain,_ but the thought was only sarcastic; that uncanny ability of Cole's was sure to land him into trouble if he used it within earshot of anyone else, and she fervently hoped he would keep it to himself.

The south trebuchet soon loomed into view, rising above the crest of a small hill. It was loaded with a large projectile, covered in tar and ready to be lit and fired, but its operators, a small host of Inquisition soldiers, were apprehended midway by several red templars. Though they outnumbered the templars, the soldiers were having a hard time countering the knights' corrupted strength.

With a powerful jump, Leliana launched herself onto the trebuchet's platform before loosing a rain of arrows into the red templars. Varric dove in with Bianca in hand and Ahnnie followed suit to assist a soldier being pushed back by a templar's punishing blows. She slashed at the templar's back, startling him, and the Inquisition soldier took advantage of the surprise to make a sweeping cut in the templar's waist. Enraged, the templar bashed the Inquisition soldier aside with his shield and swung his broadsword down on Ahnnie.

A dagger sank into the back of his neck, freezing him mid-attack. A brief struggle ensued whereby the templar attempted to throw off whoever was clinging to his back, but with a grunt, his assailant drove the dagger in until with a sickening _snap_ it cut through the vertebrae, rendering him useless.

Cole leapt off as the templar fell face down into the snow, eyes meeting Ahnnie's briefly before he blinked out of existence. She jolted in shock and whirled around a moment later to find that he had reappeared several yards to her left, sneaking up on another red templar as suddenly as before. As soon as that templar was disposed of, he moved onto the next one in the same fashion, lightning fast and deadly silent.

 _What is_ _he?_ she couldn't help but wonder for the umpteenth time.

"Don't just stand there!" Leliana suddenly reproached her. "If you're not fighting, you could be of more use up here!"

With a guilty blush, Ahnnie ran up the platform. "Sorry," she apologized. "Um, what do you need?"

"Help that soldier with the signal to the north trebuchet," the spymaster ordered as she nocked another arrow to her bow, "and once a responding signal is given, keep him free to man the trebuchet."

"Got it." Ahnnie then turned over to the soldier in question, and he handed her a torch. She was to light it to a brazier that the operators of the north trebuchet would see. _Easy peasy._ They watched for a corresponding light in the north and found it. Once that was done, she lit the tar-covered projectile and waited as the soldier pulled the winch. As promised, she kept an eye out for the conflict as he worked, glaive held ready to protect him. The templars were down to two men now, but still fought as wildly as raging bulls.

And then, in a great whoosh of air, the trebuchet launched.

It was a sight to behold. The flaming projectile, like a shooting star, sailed through the air in a dazzling arc. At the same time another such projectile marred the night from the north trebuchet. The southern one exploded onto a part of the mountain above the pass while the northern one struck the pass directly below it. The result was a twin avalanche that shook and groaned like a giant awakening from slumber, tumbling wave upon wave of snow onto the procession of Red Templars. As the snow spilled through the mountains, their torchlights winked out as abruptly as candle flames.

Emboldened, the Inquisition soldiers let out a cheer and fell upon the remaining pair of templars with a renewed vigor. Ahnnie meanwhile watched the avalanche with bated breath, unable to take her eyes away from crashing snow as it roared and twisted through the pass, erasing the black specks of trees and figures of men in a vast white blot, until finally it tumbled to a rumbling, fading stop. Then a beastly screech rent the air, followed by the beat of giant wings. Hair rose on the back of her neck as a sudden darkness came over them.

"Look out!" Ahnnie cried, and roughly pulled the soldier along in her jump off the trebuchet's platform. They both fell tumultuously to the ground and shielded their faces as a pillar of fire blast the siege engine into smithereens.

When she helped him up, she found that the explosion had dealt with the remaining templars for them. It also unfortunately took out three of their own. But before anyone could move, a mighty gust of wind assailed their little force. The screech once again echoed from above and a great shadow swept over them. Against her better judgment, Ahnnie looked up to meet the sleek underbelly of a winged and scaled creature soaring through the air, a creature she once thought existed only in myth, both back home and in this fantastical world that had magic and demons-

A dragon.

Her mouth dropped wide open. _No! NO!_ _That is_ not _possible!_

But it was. The horns of retreat blasting from Haven's walls proved it was so. "Everyone to the gates!" Leliana yelled, her usually calm and controlled voice now crackling with the frightened tones of urgency.

Even without her order they would have fled back down the path, running with abandon until they were once again within the town's boundaries. Commander Cullen stood just upon the threshold, desperately ordering soldiers and workmen back inside.

"Pull back, now!" he was yelling. "Move it, move it!" When the last person trickled through, he signaled for the gates to close and did not turn away until he heard them thud together. He then addressed their group as he jogged into Haven, "We need everyone back to the Chantry! It's the only building that might hold against...that beast!" His eyes bespoke a sense of frustrated helplessness. "At this point...just make them work for it."

Another blast of fire snaked down from the sky, hitting a wooden building directly in front of them. Several such blasts echoed through the town in the wake of the dragon's path, leveling to nothing the longtime dwellings of innocent townspeople and the new shelters constructed for the refugees. As the splintered boards scattered in the air and the flames fed on what was left, Ahnnie knew in that moment where she wanted to go first. Her legs carried her to the western edge of Haven, ducking past smoke and flames and rubble; it was only absentmindedly that she took note of the two Inquisition soldiers dashing after her.

"Rescue as many people as you can along the way!" Ahnnie shouted to them over her shoulder. "I'm heading for the Singing Maiden!"

Whether they listened or not was of little concern. She simply forged ahead, occasionally looking into the burning structures on either side to see if any innocents were left within. The crying of a little child alerted her halfway and she ducked into the alleyway of two houses to extract a young boy, no older than three, wailing in fear between a pair of barrels.

"Take him to the Chantry!" she ordered one of the soldiers. Pointing to the other one - "You, come with me."

Together they raced through the burning town until they arrived at the tavern; or at least, what was left of it. In its place was a broken skeleton of wood, burning away into the night like the celebratory bonfires they had lit not more than several hours ago. Ahnnie ordered the soldier to search the area for survivors before running around the ruined structure trying her best to spot signs of people. _Please let them be okay, please let them be okay..._

"Flissa!" she cried upon spotting the innkeeper's prone form. She was wedged beneath some wooden beams several feet within the tavern, obstructed from reach by fallen planks. Ahnnie dropped her glaive to throw the extra wood aside, heart hammering rapidly. " _Flissa_! Can you hear me?"

The innkeeper's body stirred, then groaned. "Ah...nnie?"

"I'm here, Flissa!" The harried girl threw off the last hunk of wood and dropped to her knees to reach through the widened crawlspace for Flissa's protruding hand. She caught it and clasped it tightly. "Everything's going to be okay!"

"...can't," Flissa grunted as Ahnnie started pulling. "Just...go...Osbert took Netta...they're safe."

"Yes I _can_ ," she argued, pulling harder. "You're going to make it! You're going to see them-"

"Please...take care...of her..."

"Don't say that!"

Flissa's head twitched upwards, revealing her bruised and battered face. That was the last thing Ahnnie saw before the tavern's upper level exploded in a shower of flames, sending heavy beams of wood crashing down onto the innkeeper. Her forearm snapped off in a bloody gush as Ahnnie was propelled backward by the momentum; when she recovered from the shock, it was to gaze in horror at the browned fingers still clasping onto her own. " _Flissa!_ "

She would have lain there forever staring at the hand, if not for the Inquisition soldier. "Lady Herald, we must go! It's getting too dangerous!" Her glaive was pushed into her face a moment later, and with a shaken regret, she took hold of it and let go of the severed limb.

They ran back down the path but were forced to take a detour as a house collapsed in their way. They wedged themselves into a narrow opening between two buildings, luckily built of stone at the base, and spilled out a moment later back onto the dirt path. They saw Adan ahead of them, running with two women for the stairs leading to the upper tiers; and then the palisade wall split open, admitting four red templars.

Before they could get close enough to intervene, the nearest templar cut a large slash across Adan's body just as the healer whirled around in surprise. He was then impaled by the templar's sword, whose colleagues made quick work of the shrieking and fleeing women.

A surge of hatred coursed through her veins, such as she had not felt in a long, long time. "Bastards!" Ahnnie shouted. She caught the attention of Adan's killer and spared no time making life difficult for him, slashing and twirling her glaive as fast as her abilities would allow. Common sense had fled and gone; in its place was pumping adrenaline. She blocked and parried for every riposte he made, slashed and stabbed through every opening. It was thus a rude awakening when, a moment later, her body was flung aside by the shield of one of his fellows.

"Lady Herald!" the Inquisition soldier cried desperately, sandwiched by the other two templars and unable to assist.

Ahnnie rolled away in the nick of time as a sword rushed down to pin her stomach. The blade's edge caught against her shoulder but did not bite through, thanks to her leather armor. She thrust upwards with the bladed end of her glaive to fend the templar away, but found she didn't have to when he was suddenly struck by a bolt of purple lightning. She took the opportunity to risk a slide through the other templar's legs, stabbing upward through the codpiece with the bladed end.

His howl of pain assaulted her ears as she leapt to her feet behind him, slicing through his back with the crescent blade before knocking him to the ground with a leg swipe at his unstable feet. His sword shot up in defense but she slapped it aside with a rude blow, laying his armored chest wide open, his neck exposed in a slit between the bottom of his helmet and the top of his breastplate.

She sunk the bladed end deep into his windpipe.

Another lightning bolt hissed and crackled through the air to strike another of the red templars. "Quickly, my dear!" Madame Vivienne called to her, and it was then she noticed the Madame with a group of extra Inquisition soldiers making mincemeat of the remaning templars. The Court Enchanter stunned another templar and held out a hand for her. "There is no more we can do here."

Ahnnie ran up the steps and into Vivienne's awaiting hand. "Has everyone-"

"Most of Haven is at the Chantry," Vivienne cut her off as she pulled her up. "The soldiers will follow once they are done."

Ahnnie settled for that assurance as she followed the woman to the Chantry. But her eyes continued to dash left and right, ever vigilant for stragglers or hidden enemies. Her head still pounded with the dregs of her latest fight and she flinched at every wayward shadow, every creak and howl. "Whoa, whoa, whoa!" she exclaimed as her ears detected a thin, whining noise on the wind. She dashed off in its direction, much to the Madame's chagrin.

Picking through the lumpy rubble of another broken home, she strained to listen for the noise, feeling it increase at times and decrease at others. "C'mon," she coaxed, "who's a good boy? Who's a good girl? Come here! It's okay!" _Come on, please!_

A little yip echoed several yards to her right and she dove there to find the frightened puppy cowering under a pile of wooden planks. Beneath a heavier pile of wood lolled the lifeless head of his mother, saucer eyes half open to the sky and long pink tongue protruding through the brown muzzle.

Ahnnie gasped. _Lady..._ She grit her teeth and reached under the planks, drawing the shivering pup into her arms. "Shh, it's okay, Charley," she cooed, and then rushed back to the Madame.

They came to the Chantry at the same time as two other civilians, their soldiers following not too far behind. Cole and Chancellor Roderick were at the door, pushing them in as soon as they fled by.

"Move! Keep going!" the Chancellor was yelling. "The Chantry is your shelter!"

Charley squirmed and sprang out of her hands the moment Ahnnie stepped into the hall. She was half afraid he would rush out the door, but then saw him running up to his littermates instead. They were lying despondent at Netta's feet where she sat crying with Osbert and sprang up in excitement upon seeing him.

"Oh, Lady Herald!" Osbert cried, and rushed up to meet her with Netta in tow. The edges of his beard were curled and singed. "Oh thank the Maker, you've made it!"

Ahnnie strapped her glaive behind her and bent down to Netta's level, cupping the child's face in her hands and turning it this way and that. "You're okay," she sighed in relief as she saw no sign of injury, and hugged the little girl tight. "Thank god, you're okay..."

Netta returned her hug with equal fervor, but then asked through her hiccoughs, "Where's Mama?"

"Is Flissa all right?" Osbert added. "Is she coming?"

Ahnnie felt her stomach tighten as she pulled away from Netta. She found it impossible to look into the child's teary blue eyes and cast her gaze down on the floor instead. "I'm so sorry," she said with a gulp.

Osbert drew in a sharp breath. "No," he gasped. Netta burst aloud into fresh sobs and the squat tavern cook gripped her in his arms as he, too, began weeping.

The next person to whom she was the bearer of bad news was Nala. "Your ladyship, are you hurt?" the elven girl asked, coming up to her with a bowl of warm water and a rag. "I know it's not much, but I will do my best until Master Adan comes."

"Adan..." Ahnnie's voice shook as she straightened up. "Adan is not coming."

"He...isn't?"

"No, Nala, he..."

Nala's eyes rimmed with moisture. "I see. I...I will do what I can, then."

Ahnnie turned away, unable to bear with the mournful faces of the people who once smiled and laughed with her. But even though she didn't look at them, their wails of pain and grief pierced the Chantry in an opera of torment. The thud of the doors finally closing was what brought her back into focus, and she looked up to see Chancellor Roderick wavering on his feet before collapsing into Cole's arms.

"Chancellor!" Ahnnie exclaimed as she rushed up to them. "What happened?" she asked Cole.

"He tried to stop a templar," the young man said. "The blade went deep. He's going to die."

Cole hefted the Chancellor up by the arm and Ahnnie followed suit, swinging the opposite arm over her shoulder. As the both of them moved the limp Chancellor down the hall, Ahnnie could see the wound Cole spoke of in the Chancellor's side. The blood was camouflaged in his scarlet robes but gleamed wet and obvious under better lighting.

"What a charming boy," Chancellor Roderick mused at Cole as the two of them lowered him against a wall.

"Shh," Ahnnie hushed him. "Lie still."

She was about to order for some water when Commander Cullen found her. "Herald!" he barked, striding up to where she knelt. "Our position is not good. That dragon stole back any time we might have earned."

"I know," she grimaced.

Cole looked up as the Commander came close. "I've seen an archdemon," he interjected, trying to sound helpful. "I was in the Fade, but it looked like that."

If Cole's admittance to having been in the Fade bothered Cullen, he did not show it. "I don't care what it looks like," he snapped. "It has cut a path for that army. They'll kill everyone in Haven!"

"The Elder One doesn't care about the village," Cole put in yet again. "He only wants the Herald."

Ahnnie's hands balled into fists on her thighs. _This Elder One wants only me,_ she thought, _but sends an army and a dragon down the mountain to kill innocent people? Flissa and Adan and Lady and god knows how many more! I thought that everything was solved with the Breach, but no..._ It was more than she could bear. "If it's me the Elder One wants," she began, quivering with rage, "then it's me he'll get!"

Cole looked at her despondently. "It won't work," he murmured, soft voice almost childish. "He wants to kill you. No one else matters, but he'll crush them, kill them anyway. I don't like him."

"You don't like...?" Cullen shook his head in frustration and turned away from the cryptic young man. "Herald, there are no tactics to make this survivable, never mind any selfless sacrifices. The only thing that slowed them was the avalanche; we could turn the remaining trebuchets, cause one last slide."

"We're overrun!" she protested. "The templars have made it through...if we're going to hit them, we'd have to bury Haven!"

"We're dying, but we can decide how," was the Commander's grave response. "Many don't get that choice."

While they spoke, the Chancellor coughed and turned feebly in the direction of the Chantry's deeper halls. Cole was the only one who noticed, and nodded in accord to the Chancellor's silent wishes. "Yes, that," he murmured, and turned back to Ahnnie and Cullen. "Chancellor Roderick can help. He wants to say it before he dies."

Upon catching their attention, the Chancellor began his wheezing brief. "There is a path...you wouldn't know it unless you'd made the summer pilgrimage. As I have. The people can escape. She must have shown it to me...Andraste must have shown me so I could...tell you."

He gripped Ahnnie's wrist with a sudden ferocity. She gasped, startled. "Chancellor Roderick, what-"

"It was whim that I walked the path," he continued, undeterred. "I did not mean to start - it was overgrown. Now, with so many in the Conclave dead, to be the only one who remembers...If this simple memory can save us, this could be more than mere accident."

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip. "Think it'll work?" she asked Cullen apprehensively.

"Possibly," he nodded. " _If_ he shows us the path. But what of your escape?"

"Escape?" a burly voice cut through. "Ha! By the time we're through, it'll be the _dragon_ trying to find an escape."

Ahnnie looked up to find the Iron Bull ambling towards them, his great battlehammer held lazily across his shoulders, followed by Blackwall and Sera and Dorian and Vivienne - "You'll help?"

"Why of course, my dear," Vivienne purred. "You can't possibly think to accomplish this alone."

"And I suppose a little winter exercise could do me some good," Dorian added encouragingly, flexing a shoulder.

Sera spread out her hands on both sides. "It's pretty simple innit? The people get moving, we spin the trebuchets, _boom_ , snow all over Haven! Then we just run off!"

Blackwall simply shrugged. "It's our only chance. It's worth a try."

Cullen listened to them with a glimmer of approval in his eyes. He then waved a company of Inquisition soldiers over before sending them back out into Haven with fresh orders. "They'll load the trebuchets," he explained to Ahnnie. "Keep the Elder One's attention until we're above the tree line. We'll send up a flare to be sure."

She withdrew her glaive as she rose and stood up with it in hand. "Got it," she nodded.

"Inquisition!" Commander Cullen shouted to the rest of the people in the hall. "Follow Chancellor Roderick. Through the Chantry! Move!"

As the people began their shuffling file for the indicated passageway, Cole helped the Chancellor to his feet once more. Roderick's eyes caught hold of Ahnnie's when their faces came level with each other and his voice croaked out, full of hope, "Herald...if you are meant for this, if the Inquisition is meant for this...I pray for you."

 _He finally called me 'Herald'._ And it came while he was dying. Ahnnie fought back the lump in her throat and simply smiled at the man. "Me too. Stay safe."

Their new group thus split away from the rest, making for the Chantry's main doors while the people headed for the passageways opposite. Ahnnie looked back over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of everyone before the halved Andrastian sunburst closed in completion behind her, shutting the hall away from view for what was very possibly the last time. She drank in the stench of smoke and turned to the path ahead, noting the Inquisition soldiers already on a head start to the east and west.

It was quickly decided that they would split up between trebuchets. Vivienne, Sera, and Blackwall were to head for the west; Ahnnie would go east with Dorian and the Iron Bull. And so they ran through the haze of the burning village, embers flying like glowing snow past their vision. Ahnnie felt her muscles tense as she once again anticipated trouble in the lurking shadows around them.

"Dear me," Dorian remarked a few minutes later, "it looks like we've got company."

The burly silhouettes of a pair of roving templars suddenly traced themselves in the gloom. Iron Bull charged forward with his giant battlehammer, lowering his horns as he swept in between them and dashed them aside with two consecutive bashes. Dorian pierced the air with twirling arcs of flame, setting their enemies afire before sinking a line of flame into the snow to raise up smoke.

They quickly left the scene, vanishing as quietly as possible through the curtain of smoke. It was not their aim to stay and kill; time was of the essence.

Iron Bull led the charge from then on, crashing into red templars both left and right and clearing a path for the two humans behind him. They made better headway in this fashion and were soon past the village walls on the road to the siege engine. The red brutes seemed to pose little trouble for Iron Bull, and Ahnnie felt grateful the qunari came along with them. _I hope the others are doing all right._ If for some reason they didn't make it to their trebuchet, the three of them would have to double back west...

"Holy shit, duck!" Iron Bull suddenly roared.

Ahnnie and Dorian jumped sharply to the left as angry red crystals zoomed past them. They looked up and found a red templar horror guarding the hill ahead with a rain of red lyrium. Atop that hill sat the trebuchet, where a group of red templars were assaulting the Inquisition soldiers Cullen sent ahead.

"That's one ugly bastard," Iron Bull remarked as he swatted aside another red crystal with his battlehammer. "Lemme take care of this one, boss; you go with mustachio here and deal with the guys above."

"Mustach...beg your pardon, but I'm more than just my facial hair, you know!" Dorian protested.

"Don't let the lyrium hit you!" Ahnnie shouted back as she pulled the Tevinter mage after her. They weaved between several more red projectiles before the Iron Bull's battlehammer collided with the horror in a great crash, allowing them to relax somewhat from the danger of being hit by the devilish substance. Ahnnie brought her glaive forward as she jumped into the fray while Dorian knocked away a red templar marksman with a blast of magic, followed by a fiery bombardment on the rest of the knights.

The Iron Bull finally slammed the templar horror to the ground after several minutes of fighting, smashing into his torso like a meat tenderizer. Red lyrium and flesh shattered beneath the battlehammer. With an angry roar the qunari leapt for the other templars, bludgeoning them with wild abandon like there was no tomorrow. His assistance freed some Inquisition soldiers to return to the trebuchet and wheel it through a mechanism in its platform to face the slopes surrounding Haven.

The other templars were finished off the moment the trebuchet was aimed and ready. Iron Bull huffed as he lowered his weapon; parts of his face, arms, and leather chest armor were scored with angry welts and burn marks from the flying red lyrium. He had doubtless been hurt, but wiped his cheek brusquely and took a deep sniff of the cold mountain air like it was nothing. "Ready, boss?" he asked Ahnnie, nostrils flaring.

"Not yet," she replied, watching the mountain slope behind Haven for the promised flare. _C'mon..._ She then turned around and took a gander at the mountain pass opposite the village; _crap. That dragon cleared away most of the avalanche._ And even more torchlights were winking down the hills than before. _We're losing time!_

As if on cue, a piercing shriek cut through the night sky. Ahnnie's heart leapt into her mouth as she spotted the accursed dragon's silhouette contrasted against the clouds, growing larger and larger as it zeroed in on their hill. "The dragon's coming back!" she cried in alarm, and ran with the others to get away from the creature.

A scorching column of fire shot down from above to encircle the trebuchet. Ahnnie suddenly felt heat well up behind her and realized with thick dread that the dragon was purposefully aiming for her. She launched with her feet to jump away from the flames, but the toe of her boot caught against a scuff in the ground and tripped her in an unceremonious tumble. Landing roughly on her stomach, it took a few seconds before she regained enough composure to sit up on her knees.

She was starting to rise when a noise alerted her to an incoming presence. Her head whipped to the left and she saw the twisted outline of the Elder One approaching through the flames. His shoulders, whether armored or mutated, rose like great spikes above his emaciated body. His face glimmered with red lyrium in the firelight, jerked into a perpetual smirk by a serrated crystal scarring the edge of his mouth. Red pierced the skin along the ribs and punctuated the abdomen as a garish crimson ridge; a smoked human husk held together by crystals.

Ahnnie grasped the shaft of her glaive and used it as support to straighten faster. She turned around to run but the earth suddenly shook as the dragon, dark as smoke, landed with a crashing pounce on its taloned claws mere yards away from her. She froze, overwhelmed by the sheer size of the creature. Then she took a wary step back, not daring to even breathe. The dragon regarded her ponderously, long scaly neck vibrating in a throaty growl before parting its maw in a roar that blasted a wave of hot, sulphurous breath.

Ahnnie coughed and turned away, shielding her face in her arms. The dragon, enraged by some unknown offense, craned its head back and screeched its ear-splitting song up at the moon.

"Enough," spat a deep voice like rumbling stones. The dragon fell quiet, and Ahnnie spun back around to face the Elder One.

She knew that voice.

The voice of the entity at the Breach-

The possible killer of Divine Justinia V.

"Pretender," he groused. "You toy with forces beyond your ken. No more."

Heat scorched her skin and lungs, choking all thought and feeling to smoke save for one question. "What...are you?"

The monster answered her full of contempt. "Know me, know what you have pretended to be. Exalt the Elder One! The _will_ that is Corypheus!" His arm stirred from beside him and the long, darkened limb lifted to point a claw-like finger at her. "You will kneel."

"No," she breathed. The burning village flashed before her eyes, as did the Chantry of grief and a night of triumph rendered to ash - "No, I will not!" she yelled, louder. _Not when I know what it means; what it will cost me!_

He was displeased but not surprised. "You will resist," Corypheus surmised. "You will always resist. It matters not." He held up a ball in his other hand, a strange, bronze orb the size of an ostrich egg carved with looping geometric patterns. "I am here for the _Anchor_. The process of removing it begins now."

A bright red magic flared from that hand as he spoke, crackling around the ball until it glowed with a mucky green light. With the other hand he reached for her, orange-red fire dancing in the center of his palm. Ahnnie thought at first that he was going to strike her with magic; but then her left hand tingled. Tingled, flared, ached, stung, stabbed, crackled -

" _Gaaah_!" she cried, doubling over the marked hand. Her eyes watered as every tendon, every fingerbone seared with the white-hot slice of a thousand tiny knives.

"It is your fault, 'Herald'," Corypheus reproached. "You interrupted a ritual years in the planning, and instead of dying, you stole its purpose."

She felt the hand move forward and realized with horror that it was being drawn to Corypheus' magic like metal to a magnet. She grit her teeth and tried to fight against the pull. She did so futilely.

"I do not know how you survived, but what marks you as 'touched', what you flail at rifts, I crafted to assault the very heavens."

Her pain accumulated in sync to Corypheus' growing spell, until in a final burst of magic the Elder One clenched his hand and sent her mark dancing wildly. Ahnnie howled and dropped to her knees, letting go of the glaive to grip her flaring hand by the wrist. The dragon hissed and stalked behind her, as if to mock her for her suffering.

"And you used the Anchor to undo my work! The gall!"

It took a miracle to get her lips working properly, much less think straight. "I...never...took this...'Anchor' willingly," she ground out. "I didn't know...who you were...it was just...there!"

"And yet you flaunted its power like a fool," Corypheus growled. "You let others decide what the course of the Anchor would be, without understanding or seeking to understand the nature of what you held in your hand. Ignorance is truly the greatest of mortal sins."

A jagged hand suddenly enclosed around her left wrist and hefted her into the air as easily as a rag doll. She screamed and thrashed about with her free limbs, but if it bothered Corypheus, he showed it not at all. "I once breached the Fade in the name of another," he rumbled, "to serve the Old Gods of the empire _in person_. I found only chaos and corruption. Dead whispers. For a thousand years I was confused; no more." He lifted her higher and higher until she was level with his face; his dried, crackled, leathery face. "I have gathered the _will_ to return under no name but my own, to champion withered Tevinter and correct this blighted world."

And then he leaned in close, his penetrating gaze boring through the depths of her soul. "Beg that I succeed, for I have seen the throne of the gods, and _it was empty_."

The world suddenly flew by in a dizzying blur as Corypheus flung her into the trebuchet. The wood connected with her back and slammed against her skull in a rough crash, knocking the wind from her lungs.

"The Anchor is permanent," Corypheus hissed. "You have spoiled it with your stumbling."

She limped to her feet as the Elder One and his dragon walked over. Fighting through the buzzing in her ears, Ahnnie reached behind for her glaive only to see it on the ground where she had knelt earlier. The dragon stepped on it with a powerful hind leg and crushed the weapon in a single crunch. Undaunted, Ahnnie reached for the sword in her belt and held it out threateningly at Corypheus.

He noted the maneuver with little amusement. "So be it; I will begin again. Find another way to give this world the nation - and _god_ \- it requires."

A little speck of light floated above Haven's walls as he spoke. She thought it to be a trick of the eyes at first, but then remembered what she had been here to do. _Any minute now, the west trebuchet will..._

"And you." Corypheus narrowed his eyes. "I will not suffer an unknowing rival. You _must_ die."

Ahnnie glared back at him. "Same goes for you," she retorted hoarsely, and kicked at the winch. It spun madly under the momentum, swinging the stony projectile from under the trebuchet's counterweight and into the air from whence it struck the snowy face of a slope directly above them. Another such projectile slammed into the slope to the west, and the mountains rumbled as the avalanches began their descent.

Ahnnie launched herself off the platform and sprinted away as fast as her weary legs would take her. The snow was spilling with great rapidity and she knew, deep inside, that she would never make it. _At least the Elder One will share the same fate._ But then she heard his dragon screech as it rose into flight and looked up to find it bearing him away. _Oh...fuck._

She grit her teeth and pressed on. _Maybe, just maybe...!_

Powdered frost began to cloud the air and her lungs felt as though they would freeze. With her vision growing obscured, she failed to see the drop straight ahead of her and unwittingly propelled herself off its ledge, flying into the air for a single, stomach-lurching second, before the laws of gravity plunged her through empty space and sank her weight with a deafening crash through a ceiling of wooden planks.


	3. Dawn Will Come

_Slurp, slurp, slurp, slurp-slurp._

"Ahaha! Cao-Cao, stop!"

_Slurp, slurp, slurp._

"Down, boy! That tickles!"

_Slurp, slurp._

_"_ Chị Hai!" Bình called out. His voice resounded from above the grassy hill. "C'mon, it's time to eat!"

"We're making thịt nướng," Tiên added.

"Coming!" Turning to the happy dog, she gestured for him to follow. "Let's go, boy - they're making grilled meat!"

The fluffy brown Akita barked and ran after her as she sprinted through the grass. The day was just so _beautiful_ , with the sunniest sun you ever saw, the warmest air, the bluest sky, the puffiest clouds - such a perfect day for what would be a perfect picnic. As she ran up the slope of the hill, she could just make out the distant forms of her siblings and Cixi waiting for them at the top. The fragrant aroma of thịt nướng, cooked with what could only be the choicest cuts of pork and the most perfectly balanced of marinades, wafted down to her like a beckoning temptation.

"Careful, Chị Hai, it's going to rain!" Tiên suddenly warned.

"You gotta be kidding me," she yelled back. "I checked the weather and everything!"

But the clouds above her suddenly turned grey and covered the blue sky. Thunder echoed in the heavens. She craned her neck up to catch sight of the first falling raindrops, thick and long as beams of wood. No, wait, they _were_ beams of wood. They tumbled on top of her, crashing onto her body in a tumultuous heap. Every beam represented a painful ache in her back, head, sides, arms, legs _._ It happened so fast she didn't even have the time to cry out.

Through it all, Cao-Cao somehow managed to jump in her face. _SLURP!_

* * *

 

Ahnnie gasped and spluttered, coughing back to life as a clump of snow fell onto her face. When some of it trickled in her nostrils, she gave what could only be the biggest and baddest sneeze of her life. It echoed through her ears like the bashing of cymbals and racked wave upon wave of aches through her body.

 _Unnnghh..._ she cringed, hugging her sides as pain lanced through a rib bone. While every part of her felt sore, a rib on her right side seemed bad in particular. Her head pounded at the thought of it being fractured. _Oh, please, not again..._ her pinky toe had been officially the very first bone she'd ever broken. She wasn't keen on adding another to that list.

Her eyes opened slowly. The world was as dark as when they had been closed - _oh no, I'm blind!_ But as she rolled onto her back, she was relieved to find her sight very much intact, if not perfect. A gaping hole in the ceiling of splintered wood revealed the grey sky above. Clumps of snow teetered at the edges, threatening to drop on her at any moment. With a shuddering sigh, Ahnnie attempted to sit up.

Her joints creaked and cracked. The damned rib protested sharply. She sucked in a breath and forced herself up until she was truly upright. Beyond the spotlight cast by the hole above, murky darkness swam all around. From what little she could see she gathered that she had fallen into a cave. She looked up again, but a crick in her neck forced her head back down. Still, it seemed like a long way to have fallen. There was no conceivable way up.

Ahnnie brought her left hand before her. The mark was calm and glowed sleepily in the gloom. _Perfect, a light source._ She waved it around and discovered that the only way to go, if at all, was forward. Her short sword lay several feet away and she stretched herself, torturously, to reach it. Then she composed the stiff legs beneath her into a stumbling, lurching stand.

She hissed as the rib screamed again. Regardless, she started on her shambling way with gritted teeth. It occurred to her as she progressed through the beginnings of a manmade tunnel that this was all pointless - _But what is there left to lose?_ The night's events came back to her in jerky patches until, at last, they wove themselves into a linear tapestry of tragedy. Everything that made her feel adequate for once had already been taken from her; she might as well not let her life be one of them.

The tunnel seemed to stretch on for forever. Some of the stiffness worked itself out, but the aching still resided like an unwelcome guest. Darkness in the meanwhile taunted her with its eerie absence of sound; there was not even the dripping of stalactites to punctuate the air. Unnerving at first, it quickly became dull. Monotony benumbed the edges of her mind.

So it was with shock that she found torchlight glowing around the bend. Faint and dying, but torchlight nonetheless. "Hello?" she croaked, her throat dry. "Anyone there?"

Then her palm vibrated. _Damn it,_ she cursed, _there's a rift..._ but there was no turning back now. The mark - or, she supposed, the 'Anchor' - vibrated with a greater intensity as she started rounding the bend. Having no more need of a light source, she clenched her weapon's hilt in both hands. If she timed it right, she could possibly close the rift before demons came through - _if_ they already weren't through, in the first place.

She came to another cavern lit by torches at the entrance. It seemed to lead three ways but the only way open was the one in the middle, illuminated by another pair of torches; the openings to the left and right were blocked by rubble, and dark. A rift glowed green in the cave center with no supernatural obstructions, free for her to come and close. She hobbled over to it to take her chance.

Yet she felt so hopeless.

So miserable.

 _What's the point?_ she despaired. _It's not like closing this rift's going to make a difference. Sealing the Breach was the biggest thing I ever did in my life, but it all came undone in a few hours. Now I'm stuck in some underground cave, aching everywhere with no hope of survival...I couldn't even save the people I cared about._

The thought provoked a pang in her chest. Every breath came out labored, and not just because a rib was in pain. She lowered her short sword and looked at it sorrowfully, tracing the length of its blade from crossguard to sharp tip.

_I should just...end it all._

Warm tears streaked down her face as she shut her eyes tight. The sword's aim was now inverted, set to strike the sunburst eye in the middle of her armor. The only thing she regretted was being unable to say goodbye to everyone else.

The clatter of a light object on the cavern floor was what stayed her hand.

Ahnnie's eyes opened and accosted the noise's source as it rolled to a stop at her boot. It was a small pinecone, caked heavily with snow. She froze for several moments trying to figure out where it might've come from, when she heard wind whistling directly ahead of her. Her head perked up. It was the exit; the middle opening in the cavern _was the way out._

As she made the connection, a cloaked demon coagulated from the darkness and flew at her, screeching with the grief of a thousand mourners. Yelling in surprise, Ahnnie swung her sword to ward it off. The sword scored a hit, but the demon was unfazed. Bleeding black smoke, it hissed as it sank back into the shadows. She made to apprehend it but stopped before she could so much as take a step.

 _What am I doing?_ she thought again, chest growing heavy. _I'll never be able to kill that thing. Not with the condition I'm in. I'm screwed._

And yet, something felt odd. Whether it was because she had been nothing but grim determination earlier, or the realization of an exit had stimulated her, this sudden despair seemed out of place even in someone like her. Now why would that be?

 _I tried to kill myself,_ she thought, horrified. _I_ never _tried to do that before, even at my lowest point._ Realization struck her again. _It's not me...it's the_ _demon!_

She whipped the Anchor out at the rift just as the demon renewed its keening. It sprang from the shadows and began physically attacking her in lieu of influencing her emotions, but as the rift grew weaker, so did it. Having no way to completely fend it off, Ahnnie simply accepted the blows in place or parried one-handed to the best of her abilities. When the rift finally closed and the demon, gone, she was left shivering from the slash marks it had made in her armor. Though no blood had been shed, the icy traces of the demon's essence penetrated to the very skin.

She sheathed the short sword to free up an arm for a self hug. But before she could totter for the exit, she paused, looking back down at the pinecone. Coincidence or not, the sight of it had saved her. She was rarely one to believe in superstitions, but this time around...she picked it up and hugged it tight.

The world outside was a massive blur of swirling snow. It was like stepping into a painting composed of nothing but violent white streaks against a gray backdrop. She bent her head in the wind, teeth chattering, and picked her careful way down the wooden ramp at the mouth of the cave.

Once she reached the bottom, she glimpsed a glowing speck of orange peeping through the whiteness. Ahnnie trudged for it, discerning its shape a moment later as that of a burning upturned wagon. She ran-waded the last few steps and crashed beside it, warming her face near the dying flames. Her left hand, kept ungloved, started stinging. She brought it to the fire as closely as possible and tucked the right hand's glove over it once it was warm. Then she heaved herself painfully back onto her feet. The wagon, though abandoned, had been pointed in one way: forward. If she guessed correctly, that was the way that would take her to safety.

Thus she struggled, alternating the glove between hands as she fought for admittance through the snowy gusts. It was so frustratingly slow, like fighting through thick syrup. Whenever the wind increased in ferocity, she stopped and shivered with more violence. It eventually became too much for her to move the glove from hand to hand and she stuck both beneath her armpits instead. The pinecone rested all the while between her breasts, a brown and spiny crown atop the sunburst eye.

Eventually she stopped shivering. A dark mass of land became visible at this point and the blizzard began to clear, but somewhere along the way her body had ceased reacting to the chill. That did not mean she was oblivious to the cold; the stings on her skin simply became more commonplace. It wouldn't have surprised her if cold was all she had really ever felt and warmth was but a farce invented by her mind. Then stumbling became frequent as her eyelids grew heavier. It did not help that the wolves were howling such soothing songs into the air; if she listened closely, they were almost opera sopranos.

The land mass morphed into a rocky hill which she practically clambered up on all fours. The pinecone had disappeared, dropped in one of the many stumbles. Whatever; she'd forgotten about it long ago. As she came close to the ridge, she spotted a cooking tripod erected over a grey pile of ash. _Someone was hungry._ _Maybe they had thịt nướng_. She staggered over to it and fell on her knees so she could dip her head to observe the ashes. Tiny orange specks still glowed in the dust."Emmmbers? Reeec _ent_?" she slurred.

The discovery encouraged her to keep going. The crest of the hill was walled on both sides by giant cliff faces, so there was no questioning any forks or bends. When she made it to the top, the welcome glow of campfires greeted her from the little valley below.

Ahnnie fell onto her bottom. _I think this is far enough,_ she wheezed. _This is as good a spot as any._ Her mouth widened in a large, lazy yawn. _I'll walk down there in the morning..._

"There, it's her!" a voice suddenly shouted. She made note of it, but only barely as she laid herself onto the snow.

"Thank the Maker!" another exalted.

Her eyes had already closed by the time a strong pair of arms hefted her slackened body to her feet. She slurred out in protest, but they dragged her on regardless. Something about dying easier in sleep when half-frozen. "You'll be able to sleep once you're warmed, I promise you." She was then led down into the valley of flickering campfires, arguing along the way with her guides. Little did she know that her words were about as coherent as a drunkard's.

When they came to the camp's edge, someone tossed a heavy cloak over her. "Your ladyship, you'll be all right," a gentle voice soothed, and thin arms led her away to a cot beneath an erected canopy. Even then, she still wasn't allowed to sleep! "Let me warm your hands first." The glove was taken off of whatever hand it had been on and her fingers brought over to a bowl where they pierced a liquid skin of warmth. Despite efforts to jerk away, her tormentor held a firm grasp over her wrist.

Ahnnie sighed and resigned herself to this fate of forced insomnia. An eternity later, the cold was chased from her limbs and she was finally allowed to lay her head down. 

* * *

 

"What would you have me tell them? This isn't what we asked them to do!"

"We cannot simply ignore this; we must find a way!"

"And who put _you_ in charge? We need a consensus, or we have nothing!"

 _Oh, please, not another argument..._ Ahnnie groaned and shut a hand over an ear. _Geez, the way Cassandra and Cullen are going at it, you would think they're getting a divorce._

"Are divorces always so loud?" someone close by murmured.

"Usually," Ahnnie replied, grumpily.

Leliana and Josephine's voices joined in a little later, pushing for infrastructure and arguing semantics. Goodness gracious, was it so difficult for them to respect the peace of someone trying to go back to sleep? It seemed only a second ago that she was lulled into blissful darkness before they so rudely interrupted it. She tried to reclaim that bliss but managed to capture it for a little while before it slipped out of her grasp again and again.

"They've been arguing for hours. You dreamt of them as your parents...but I don't think you remember."

She groaned. "Really? That's..."

"...so stupid. It still hurts, though."

 _The freak? How does this guy know what I'm going to say?_ Ahnnie hoped it was going to be the beginning of another dream. But then her nose itched. Wrinkling it, she felt her breath stalling in her throat until she expelled, through her nostrils, one forceful _achoo._ "Aagh!" she moaned. The fire it spread through her ribs sent her eyes flying wide as pain throttled her back to full awareness, much to her chagrin.

"It's cracked," Cole murmured. "Nala said so. She couldn't slow herself, kind of like you. Only now you're twisting in place, trying to quench the burns. They're everywhere."

Ahnnie panted as she traced his voice to his untidy frame sitting at the end of her cot. He turned to look at her the moment her eyes touched him. Licking her chapped lips, she asked, "How long was I asleep for this time?"

"Long enough for the moon to dip down there."

Ahnnie tried to look at where he pointed, but a section of the canopy blocked it from view. _So quite some time,_ she guessed. In total, though - had it been days, like when she first recovered in Haven? _Or i_ _s it still the same night as the attack?_ "Has the sun ever come up?" she inquired in simpler terms.

"Not yet," Cole replied. "But it will soon, I think."

"I see." She paused, remembering the man who'd saved them all. "Is Chancellor..."

"He's gone."

"Oh."

"He went silently," Cole said. "It wasn't easy, though. He walked through the grating in his side and didn't stop until everyone came here. He sat and waited as the camp was being made; then the soldiers from the trebuchets returned, along with the curly mage and the big qunari, and then the cold lady and the angry elf, and the bearded-"

"Dorian, Iron Bull, Vivienne, Sera, and you were going to talk about Blackwall," Ahnnie interrupted him.

"Yes, them. But when you were not with them, there was lots of yelling. They"- he pointed at the Big Four -"were very loud." And they still were. "The Chancellor was worried. He laid down to die, but before he left, he said a prayer for you. The Seeker lady and big Commander found you much later." Cole sighed. "Shame I couldn't help him with that one last pain in time."

Ahnnie lay still for a while beneath her cloak. Her eyes started burning and her vision grew watery. If what Cole told her was true, Chancellor Roderick had died long before she got here. Her thoughts raced back to the ice tunnels. There was no telling how long she'd laid unconscious in there; no telling whether Haven had reached this camp by the time she got up. No telling, either, if the pinecone rolled to her feet at a precise moment so painfully coincidental, it would be a miracle if true.

"Maybe it is," Cole murmured, reading through her sorrow.

In another part of the camp, the yelling of the Seeker and advisors was more of a constant background buzzing; dim enough to bear, but frustrating to put up with. Mother Giselle turned in their direction, aware of the discomfort it caused her aching patients. Still, she kept herself composed, wiping the sweaty brows of the sick and injured and offering them Andrastian comforts to soothe their pain.

In several hours it would be morning. If the Inquisition decided to move from the valley there would be no choice but to follow, regardless of anyone's physical condition. There would be lost lives, claimed by the Frostback snow; or more likely time, which often stole life even in places of safety. The very people Mother Giselle tended to now might not be with her the next day. But rather than despairing, she rejoiced in the fact. Those lucky souls would be freed from suffering in the arms of the Maker; there could be no greater fate than that.

Letting out a little breath, she sang, " _Shadows fall, and hope has fled. Steel your heart; the dawn will come. The night is long, and the path is dark. Look to the sky, for one day soon - the dawn will come._ "

" _The shepherd's lost, and his home his far._

_Keep to the stars; the dawn will come._

 

_The night is long, and the path is dark._

_Look to the sky, for one day soon-_

_The dawn will come._

 

 _Bare your blade..._ "

Music echoed through the mountains that night.

* * *

 

When the dawn came, Ahnnie was brought to tell her story to the powers that be. They consisted of the Big Four, Madame Vivienne, Blackwall, Varric, and Solas. The last three weren't official authority figures, but they wanted to hear what she had to say firsthand and no one objected to their presence.

"Then the Elder One came," she was telling them, "and his dragon blocked my way, and...well, he had this bad guy monologue and pretty much revealed to me that his name is Corypheus, and that the Breach was his doing. He tried to take my mark away - he called it 'the Anchor' - using this strange orb..."

That part seemed enough to unsettle everyone for the rest of the day. The remainder of the story they didn't even have to guess at, but it was interesting to learn from Madame Vivienne that the demon in the caves was a despair demon. Thus adjourned, the Big Four kept to themselves, dismissing anyone else who came near unless it was absolutely necessary.

As Ahnnie was thinking of sneaking in another nap, a gentle hand squeezed her shoulder. She turned around to find the familiar smooth head of Solas behind her. "A word, da'len?"

"Yes, hahren?" she asked.

He led her away from the camp to stand on the height of a bluff overlooking an even steeper valley. Ahnnie walked up beside him, her steps halting uneasily at intervals. He noticed and gave her a little smile. "I hope I'm not inconveniencing you?"

Ahnnie shook her head and smiled back. "No, not at all."

"Are you feeling better?"

"Much better," she affirmed.

"That is good to hear." Solas paused, keen eyes on the rosy horizon. "What you told us, da'len, of your encounter...the orb Corypheus carried, the power he used against you; it is elven."

She blinked. "What? Really?"

"Corypheus used the orb to open the Breach," he went on. "Unlocking it must have caused the explosion that destroyed the Conclave. I do not yet know how Corypheus survived..." He turned his gaze from the sky back to her. "Nor am I certain how people will react when they learn of the orb's origin."

 _And of course, the plot thickens_. Ahnnie tilted her head at Solas, brows furrowed in confusion. "How do you know all that?" she asked.

"They were foci, used to channel ancient magicks. I have seen such things in the Fade, old memories of older magic. Corypheus may think it Tevinter; his empire's magic was built on the bones of my people. Knowing or not, he risks our alliance. I cannot allow it."

She nodded slowly as she digested the information. "Yeah," she said at last. "I can see how the elves will become an easy target." _And it won't be pretty._

"History would agree," Solas nodded back. "But there are steps we can take to prevent such a distraction." He paced about the snow, his hands interlocked behind him. "By attacking the Inquisition, Corypheus has changed it, changed _you_. Scout to the north; there awaits a place for a force to hold it. It is a place where the Inquisition can build...grow..."

Ahnnie watched him as he moved. "Is it far from here?"

"Traveling through the mountains with limited mounts and supplies, followed by a host of people who will mostly be on foot, not counting the sick and injured?" The hedge mage stopped pacing and turned back around squarely to face her. "It may very well take us a month."

Her face blanched at the enormity of his proposal. She knew, however, that if they stayed too long in one place Corypheus and his army might catch up to them again. Hastily built camps could not sustain them forever. As desperate as it sounded, the Big Four would jump at the chance; maybe even get them moving straightaway. _If that's the case, they had better know of it before they make plans to break camp._ So she asked Solas, "What place is it?"

His eyes glimmered in the fresh morning light as he breathed the name with a stirring conviction - "Skyhold."


	4. Skyhold

It waved purple-yellow in the breeze, fanning out in light violet before blending inwards with summer gold. Frost glistened on its tips and tiny crevices like jewels of the conquered season. Snaking delicately from colorful head to rocky ground was a thin green stem, rooted in the earth by a delicate furl of leaves.

It was a flower.

Ahnnie bent down and plucked it from its domain, watching as it danced in the leisurely breeze between her fingers. Her breath almost caught in her throat.

"Spring is here," she whispered.

* * *

 

The realization was as sweet a relief as the little flower's scent. The road had been treacherous and winter, unkind. She'd lost track long ago of the days spent wandering through the mountains, negotiating rocky paths and narrow passes in pursuit of the mythical Skyhold - but if the appearance of this flower was anything to go by, they might be close.

The Inquisition had uprooted itself from the valley camp the moment Skyhold's viability was confirmed. Stories of an ancient Fereldan fortress in the Frostbacks vaguely correlating with the location and distance Solas disclosed was proof enough of its existence. If anyone distrusted it, they did not give voice to such thoughts. The promise of not only a more permanent but defensible shelter spurred them on, the siege of Haven being too close a memory for comfort. Camp was broken within a few hours and the journey begun on the cusp of noon.

But that was not to say no one suffered. It happened on the very first day of the journey, even before they started out - one by one, the majorly ill and wounded dropped like flies. The elderly and very young followed suit despite the Inquisition's best efforts to direct more rations and medicine their way. It was hardly unexpected, given their frailer state of body; but as the corpses and burial mounds piled up and their overall numbers diminished, Ahnnie's morale slowly plummeted with them. She would never forget the haunted wailing of one of the female refugees when her infant was found ice cold in his swaddling, and of how she later threw herself off a cliff when no one paid attention. Her widower stayed silent for days afterwards and vanished in the middle of the night when his grief presumably became too much.

So when Netta's fever broke out anew, Ahnnie was terrified. It chilled her to the very core whenever any of the children grew sick, but with Netta there had been a promise, an oath created by flames and crashing wood. The puppies, she noticed, were also growing thin. Stretched between her desire for the greater good of the many and concerns for the closer few, she found herself throwing her needs to the wind trying to appease both.

It was easy enough to do when supplies were fair and, regrettably, made more plentiful by the dwindling numbers - but as the dying trickled to a steadier pace and the majority of the weak killed off, the gnawing emptiness in Ahnnie's stomach grew worse. There were still hundreds in their company amongst whom the steadily decreasing supplies was increasingly being stretched thin. It did not help that the cold mountain climate forced her body to burn more calories than she could take in, either. The animals that traveled with them were occasionally slaughtered when hunting could provide no complement to their gruel, but soon they came to a breaking point. Any animal that grew the slightest bit weak was a prime choice for the day's supper. What little livestock they had brought with them were quickly gone; hungry eyes turned to the beasts of burden. When her Forder suddenly went lame, Ahnnie did not stop to ask for any second opinions.

"Just take him and roast him up," she told the army cooks.

Several of Dennet's horses suffered the same fate that night, so her supper was not likely to have been composed of the poor chestnut's meat. Even so, the sweet taste of horseflesh filled a void within her that she cried herself to sleep about later. Brontos, the burly rhino-like creatures the soldiers used as pack animals, were less of an option for the sheer amount of things they carried - losing one meant potentially losing its cargo as well - but they were easier on her conscience by virtue of having not been directly under her care. Food was becoming scarce for the animals anyway, she would tell herself. She drew the line at dogs, though. Many was the time she found herself defending the three puppies from being snatched. It came to such a point that she would not let them out of her sight. Herald or no, some grew disgruntled at this possessiveness and the way she snuck in morsels to feed the young dogs.

And who could blame them? They had themselves and their families to look after. Even Osbert was displeased with her for a spell, having intended to feed Pepper to Netta when the little girl made a slow but steady recovery. Only Netta seemed grateful for Ahnnie's insistence, as she showed by snuggling with the pups in her bedroll every night. Ahnnie would lay close by, attentive.

Within all this time she interacted little with her companions, even less with Cole. Everyone had their own thing going on and Ahnnie was about as useful to them as the average civilian. Jokes and banter had been exchanged at first, maybe some serious discussions with the Big Four; then it was silence as the journey wore on, and eventually irritation. Solas was the only one who still seemed to be himself, a fact that Ahnnie took comfort in. Even though he was mostly busy guiding them all to their destination and had little time to spend with her, every time she looked into his wise eyes steeled with purpose, she could tell herself that this journey would come to an end.

And it would all be worth it.

* * *

 

Skyhold was finally sighted a few days after the discovery of the flower. The great fortress sat high on a peak amidst the other mountains like an island in a sea of air. It was accessible via a large bridge spanning a chasm and lay so still and powerful in the weak spring morning, that everyone almost feared it was inhabited by hostiles who would attack the moment they came close. The lack of banners stayed their imaginations and the weary travelers crossed the bridge full of hope.

Yet they weren't entirely wrong about it being inhabited; the inhabitants just weren't hostile. It was clear the moment they crossed into the main courtyard that the fortress teemed with wildlife. Ground dwelling birds such as pheasants, quails, and partridges flourished in the unkempt brambles and bushes, along with hares and rabbits. Then in the trees, peering ponderously at the intruders, were wide-eyed squirrels guarding their stores. Within the fortress itself, mice and rats made their nests in the nooks and crannies of the keep and long-neglected furniture.

It was evident that they would all eat well that night. It was also evident that Skyhold had been left to nature for a very long time. While it stood mostly intact, many areas were in need of repair and rubble had to be cleared; thick layers of dust coated almost every inside surface and animal excreta was everywhere. If the Inquisition were to claim it as a new stronghold, they had much work to do.

* * *

 

The first official order of business that Ahnnie saw being implemented was the training of Leliana's ravens to recognize Skyhold as their new home. "I sent a quick message to the Hinterlands about Haven's fall before we evacuated from the Chantry," the spymaster explained in the gloom of a makeshift rookery, "but the sooner I can get word out of our new situation to our other allies, the better. I fear there are still refugees and recruits traveling up the mountains thinking to reach Haven."

Such was the regrettable state of communications in Thedas. It had been roughly a month since the Inquisition made its exodus, but Ahnnie knew to give news at least another month to fully sink in, more so in rural places than urban. If things were this slow in a world with magic, she could only imagine the confusion armies from Earth's past faced when such things happened to them.

Luckily, the new season eliminated for now the exigency of survival. Hunting and gathering parties brought in a steadier if not better stream of nourishment, and any wild animals left hiding in Skyhold were soon roasting over campfires or drying out as jerky. Medicine was still scarce, but at least it wasn't dwindling. In the meantime Ahnnie helped with the cleaning and repair efforts. The work was as exhaustive as the expanse of the fortress, especially with the limited resources they had at hand to perform it. There was so much to Skyhold she knew she hadn't seen - rooms and sections and even entire floors blocked or deemed too hazardous to enter. Yet though they had been at it for what seemed like days, progress felt minimal. It was not so much a sense of curiosity that ate at her nerves as it was frustration at the labor lying ahead of them all.

Ahnnie sighed as she collapsed on the stairway connecting the upper courtyard with the lower one. Sweat glistened on her forehead and her limbs ached with weariness. Her stomach rumbled hopelessly, but she knew the next meal would not be coming for several hours; not if she wanted to conserve the Inquisition's supplies, such as they were. _I've got thirty minutes on this break. More like thirty seconds! Sweet Maker, I hope night comes soon..._

"Are you all right?" an innocent voice asked her, and a tiny body pressed up against hers a second later.

Ahnnie put on a smile. "I'm fine, Netta."

The little girl lay her head against the older one's arm. Pepper, now a tad too big to be held in Netta's arms, tried to wheedle his way into her lap but she only pat him absentmindedly. "You don't look all right. Are you sick?"

"No, no...I'm not sick..." Ahnnie wiped some dirt off her cheek and gave a sniff. "Just a bit tired."

"So am I."

Ahnnie looked over at the light brown head. "Do you feel warm?" she asked, and felt the child's forehead in worry.

"Not so much," answered Netta. "Nala says I am getting stronger every day."

"That's good to hear," Ahnnie smiled, and withdrew her hand when she found the temperature satisfactory. _Nothing too concerning,_ she concluded.

Netta hummed in agreement as she started playing with Pepper's floppy ears. "I wish you weren't so busy," she mused at last. "Then we could play together like we used to. Charley thinks up of the funniest games, and Maiden is very smart. She always outwits him in the end. Pepper doesn't care much, but he really likes the mud. I don't really like it when he tries to get me in the mud, but if you like mud too, you would have a lot of fun."

Ahnnie felt an amused smile tug at her lips. "Okay, I'll remember that for next time. What about your friends, though? You could play with them when I'm not there. Weren't you close with two other girls...Clara and...Jan...Janie?"

"Clara and Janet are gone, and no one else wants to talk with me," Netta sighed.

"Oh." And just like that, her smile flipped upside-down. _Crap. I...I didn't think her friends had been..._ "I'm so sorry, Netta," she apologized. "I didn't realize. So none of the other children want to play with you?"

"No. They're all too busy or sad or tired to play."

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip. She'd been so wrapped up in work that she'd forgotten this was a trying time for children especially. _They never asked for a war to be brought upon them,_ _or for the Veil to be torn open and their homes destroyed..._ Children always seemed to be caught in the middle no matter what happened, and then forced to grow up with the consequences. _Damn it all._ _Why does the stupid world have to work that way?_

Netta sniffed. "I miss Clara and Janet. And I miss Lady. I even miss it when the stupid boys made fun of me." She sniffed again. "I miss Mama..."

Pepper whined as Netta stopped petting him, and the two noises together tore another hole in Ahnnie's heart. _I miss Lady and Flissa too. Most of all, I miss Haven._ The thought elicited pressure in her eyes, but she quickly fought it down with a swallow. She couldn't cry now - she had to be strong. Netta was looking up to her; above the other people the child could have sought for comfort and the other things she could have done to cope, she chose to confide in Ahnnie instead. And she couldn't be disappointed.

Luckily for her, a surefire distraction was close at hand. "My...nose...it's so _big_!"

Netta's sniffing stopped and she looked up at Ahnnie in surprise. "What?"

"Yeah," Ahnnie nodded, "just look at it...it's huge! See?" She put two fingers on either side of her nostrils and then squeezed them together. "Like, even if I smoosh it like this, it's still half the width of my lips," she droned in a tinny, congested voice.

A giggle shook in Netta's breath. "I-it's not _that_ big," the little girl protested. "Just really...round."

Ahnnie let go of her nose and mock-rolled her eyes. "Well, yeah, but have you actually _seen_ the size of this honker? It could crush foes in battle! No, I bet if I really concentrated hard enough, I could've blown away the Breach with _just a single sneeze_!"

Unable to hold it in any longer, Netta burst into a hearty fit of laughter. Ahnnie couldn't help but fall prey to the contagious mirth a moment later and found the resulting dopamine burst to be sorely needed. As she imagined using her schnozzle in actual battle, she laughed even harder. An excited Pepper pranced and waved his tail wildly in response, more desperate than ever to grab their attention.

His intrusive licks got them to slow down, but the laughter still lived in their throats as choppy breaths and sighs. Ahnnie was the first to recover and cleared her throat before she spoke. "I know you're feeling sad and lonely right now," she began, "and that's nothing wrong. I feel the same way too. But you're not alone, and I'm not alone, because we've still got each other. Right?"

Netta coughed. "Right," she echoed.

"So...we'll be sad, but it won't last forever and we'll never be lonely. One day, we will look back at the people we miss and smile as we think of them. In the meantime..." Ahnnie cupped the child's hands together in hers. "We should also remember we're not the only ones. Those kids you talked about, who were sad? Did you try talking to them at all?"

Netta shook her head.

"Maybe you could cheer them up," Ahnnie suggested. "You never know. Sometimes a sad person is just waiting for someone to talk to them. You may feel nervous at first, but if you open up with, say...asking after them, doing nice things, or even jokes, then you might find it easier. And when that person starts to feel happy, you'll feel happy too."

The little girl tilted her head in thought. "I think jokes work the best," she decided. "Laughing made me feel much happier."

"That's great! You know how to do this already!"

Her small face beamed in delight at the praise. "Oh, but I won't make fun of your nose, I promise!" Netta hurriedly vowed, now clutching Ahnnie's hands as if it were she who had been doing the comforting instead.

"Oh-" Ahnnie laughed again. "Oh no, Netta, it's okay - you can go ahead and do that. See, I think it's important to be able to laugh at yourself. It makes you feel more comfortable in your own skin."

"But if I make fun of your nose and you're not there to hear it, then it won't be you laughing at yourself but others laughing at you."

Ahnnie raised her eyebrows in surprise. _Now_ that _is some Josephine-level speech analysis._ "That's a very valid point," she agreed a moment later. "But in general, learning to laugh at yourself helps make you a happier person. And if you're a happier person, you'll be better at making others happy."

"So if I'm a happier person making others happy, will I become the _happiest_ person?" Netta asked.

Ahnnie couldn't help but grin. "Yes. Yes, you would."

The little girl tapped thoughtfully on the stone step with her foot. "That sounds very nice. I should like to try it out soon. Could you play with me right now, though? I promise to do what you say after you play with me. I'll get Charley and Maiden too. Please?"

"Ah..." Ahnnie sighed. The disrepair of Skyhold entangled her yet again; not to mention she didn't feel like playing at all. "I'm sorry, Netta, I can't-"

"But I could."

Both girls turned their heads around to find Cole squatting on the stairs just one step above them. Pepper, confused, let out a little yip before descending upon Cole's shoes for a thorough scent investigation. The young man looked down at the puppy with curious eyes. He reached out to poke the fluffy straw-colored fur and his finger was assaulted by licks almost instantly.

"Really?" Ahnnie asked. _How long has he been there? Pepper didn't even notice him...Did he listen to the whole thing?_ That would have been rather embarrassing, if true. At least for a certain part. Waving the thought away, she turned to the little girl. After all, this was _her_ playtime. "What do you think, Netta?"

Netta blinked and crept closer to Ahnnie. "Who is he?"

"He's a friend of mine," Ahnnie assured her. "He's very nice."

"He looks...scary."

Cole flinched. "I don't want to scare you, I promise," he insisted, but wasn't quite so successful, for Netta now clung onto her arm.

 _It's the eyes,_ Ahnnie thought, _and his pale skin, plus the way his hair hangs down in his face...which is also kind of sunken-looking..._ So she could understand why Netta might have her concerns. At the same time, Cole's hurt expression elicited a twinge of pity. "Why don't you try playing with him just a little bit?" Ahnnie suggested. "If you don't like him, you don't have to play with him any further." When the little girl still seemed undecided, Ahnnie added, "Let's introduce him to Charley and Maiden since he's met Pepper. Here, I'll come with you. I've still got some time left."

Netta jumped to her feet at that. "Ooh, Charley and Maiden would be happy to see him! They love making new friends, even if they're ugly."

Now it was Ahnnie's turn to flinch. "U-um, sure...but, Netta, I don't think that's such a nice thing to say..."

The three of them walked down the steps and into the collection of tents in the lower courtyard. Even without Netta guiding them Ahnnie would have known where the tent she shared with Osbert was located. She let Netta run ahead with Pepper before turning apologetically to Cole. "I hope you don't mind...it's just...kids sometimes, you know. When they're that young, they say the first thing that comes to mind and don't really think about the consequences."

"I don't mind," Cole assured her. "I only want to help."

Ahnnie smiled. "That's very sweet of you."

They stopped before the tent and waited for Netta to call out the other two puppies. It did not take long; the little girl's voice combined with Pepper's barks summoned the pointy-eared pair within the span of a few seconds. As the pups spent some time tackling Netta excitedly to the ground, Cole took the opportunity to dig through his pockets for something. "Here," he said a moment later, and held up a fist over her hand.

"Oh?" Ahnnie opened her palm and watched as a handful of plump red berries fell into it. She recognized them as wintergreen, one of the few edible winter fruits she had learned to find while digging through the snow.

"Night won't come soon enough and you'll have to get back to work," Cole explained. "It's all I could find, but I hope it helps."

Whether he had plucked these from the stash of a hunting-gathering party or rifled through the thinning snow to harvest them himself, the berries were a welcome sight that she knew would become a more-than-welcome snack. "Thank you," she breathed, smiling even wider.

As she plopped the berries into her mouth two at a time and savored the sweet, sweet spice bursting across her tongue, Ahnnie thought she could see Cole's thin lips curving in a tiny smile back.

* * *

 

"Convoy approaching!"

The basket of weeds tumbled out of Ahnnie's arms as the announcement rang across the upper courtyard. The civilians around her froze in their work as well, puzzled looks etched onto their features. Her heart rate spiked as a hand instinctively went to the sword on her belt and her legs pumped across the courtyard, down the stairs, and past the settlement of tents before crashing to a stop by the gatehouse.

The immediate area was alive with the buzzing murmurs of gathering soldiers, agents, and curious civilians. Ahnnie strained to see what the gate and the bridge looked like above their heads but failed miserably no thanks to her height. "What's going on?" she demanded of the nearest soldier, impatient.

"A convoy's been sighted in the mountain pass by one of the hunting-gathering parties, my lady," the soldier replied. "They are due to cross the bridge any minute now."

She let out a hiss of frustration. _Crap! Has Corypheus caught up to us? Was it stupid to have sent out those ravens?_ Even though Solas had assured her that the Elder One wouldn't be able to touch them here, her heart pounded harder at the thought of another attack. _We can't withstand another one! We just made it through the winter..._

"Lady Herald, are you all right?" the soldier inquired worriedly.

She whipped her head over to him. "What banner is it under?" she snapped. "Is there even any? And how large is it? Are there any of our people left out on that pass? We should get them back here as soon as possible!"

The soldier's mouth froze in silent protest before he spluttered in embarrassment, "My lady, you're mistaken...I do not believe this convoy means us any harm, not unless House Trevelyan had intentions of invading us."

Ahnnie froze. "House Trevel...?"

"Yes, Lady Herald. House Trevelyan of Ostwick. I-I apologize for scaring you; I should have told you sooner..."

She barely heard the words uttered beyond "Ostwick". Instead, she swiveled her frozen gaze towards the gates, paralyzed with shock and disbelief as the clip-clop of horses began to echo from the bridge. Eventually, it came close enough to reach beneath the raised portcullis. While every instinct told her to draw her sword and fight, the people around Ahnnie parted to make way as a forest green banner bearing the image of a horse head with a long, flowing mane floated through the courtyard.

Cassandra and Cullen descended upon the scene almost immediately. They met the head of the illustrious convoy as he reined in his dark mount and addressed him after he swung himself off the saddle.

"Lord Robert Trevelyan," Commander Cullen nodded. "It is a surprise to see you here at Skyhold."

"We had not been expecting visitors," Cassandra added, "much less nobility."

"I could not help but assemble my family's resources to bring aid once news of Haven's fall reached the Free Marches," the lord nodded back.

"Aid?" Cassandra echoed.

A familiar voice piped up from the procession behind Lord Robert, sweet and lilting in the crisp mountain air. "The wagons behind us are loaded with food, clothing, medicine, weapons, tools...just about everything a displaced people would need to start their lives anew."

Ahnnie's breath froze in the middle of her throat and her hand fell away from her sword's hilt. "Evelyn!" she cried, and pushed herself through the crowd to catch a sight of her first ever penpal. There she stood at the head of a group of wagons, dressed in deep green traveling clothes of a nobler cut than the last time they'd met and a beautifully carved staff tipped with blue crystal in hand.

The brunette's eyes brightened up with joy. "Ahnnie!" she cried back, and rushed up to encircle the girl in a tight hug.

Ahnnie felt the air squeeze from her ribs beneath the mage's unexpected strength. She couldn't help but smile and raise her arms to return the hug...but as she leaned in close, as she felt the soft neatness of Evelyn's tunic and sniffed the faint scent of something floral in her hair, she stopped and pulled away.

"What's wrong?" Evelyn asked, confused.

Ahnnie rubbed her arm and gave the mage an apologetic smile. "I'm covered in sweat and dirt from work, plus I haven't had a bath since we...uh, left Haven. I haven't changed out of these clothes, either..." The only difference from the night of the siege, she realized, was the absence of the armor.

"That's no problem!" Evelyn laughed. "Come, look here!" She grabbed hold of the girl's wrist and pulled her towards the wagons. Pointing excitedly at one as though at a festival attraction, she said, "This has all the clothes you could ever need and extra fabric to make more. Then there is soap in the medicine wagon right there, and we've got brushes and nail files somewhere, oh, I don't know, but we've got them. And if you're hungry, there's plenty of bread and meat to go around. I know the Ostwick Chantry sent along pickled goods..."

Ahnnie swallowed. "Bread?" she rasped, her mouth already watering.

"Bread!" Evelyn repeated happily. "And enough of its ingredients to go about making more!" They came to a stop at yet another wagon, and Evelyn pulled back the tarp with a mischievous smile. "Physical needs are not the only ones we came to fulfill. I'm sure you'll appreciate having one of these handy for the creation of what can only be _the_ greatest library to come..." She grabbed the nearest book and the cover of _Darktown's Deal,_ volume one, was pushed into Ahnnie's hands a moment later. Its author? Varric Tethras.

"Varric's books?" Ahnnie whispered in disbelief.

"Damn near bought out the whole bookstore of them!" boasted Evelyn. "Of course, there are other kinds too, mostly Robert's selections, and some blank books in case you're into logging, recording, or diary keeping, even. Then we've got plenty more parchment, wax, and ink for all your official correspondence needs..." She paused, her face blanching in mortification. "Wh-why, Ahnnie! Whatever is the matter?"

Ahnnie sniffed and wiped at her watery eye. "I'm sorry," she gulped. "This is all...you didn't have to..."

" _Of course_ we had to!" Evelyn insisted. "How could we just ignore you when Haven was wiped off the map, right after the sealing of the Breach no less? It would be madness not to!"

A nervous chuckle shook her breath. "O-of course," Ahnnie nodded, "it's just...sorry, I said that out of habit..." Then she looked down at the book in her hands, and the memory of opening up a paper-wrapped package in the Singing Maiden flashed by her eyes. _Like a kid on Christmas day._ "I lost it," she murmured. "The book you sent me...it was on the bed in my cabin when I went to..."

Evelyn settled a comforting hand on her shoulder. "There's plenty more of it in the wagon," she assured her. "All the copies you could ever want."

Ahnnie's lower lip trembled. "I lost my pajamas too, and that...that stupid-looking orthopaedic shoe...and then the chopsticks Blackwall made for me, and..." She gulped. "Everything I wrote in that journal. All my drawings and writings that I...I used to remind myself of Earth." She tried to stop herself by biting down on her lower lip, but the tears raced on anyway. "I lost everything that night, except for the clothes on my back and a useless bag of coins!" Which, in a fit of wild frustration, she had tossed down the mountain when the pangs of extreme hunger began to take hold of her mind.

Evelyn drew her closer. "Oh, Ahnnie...everything's going to be all right. Just let it out, now. Hold nothing back."

The words worked like a magic key, unlocking the gates to the pent up emotions that had swarmed and battered about for release; only now did Ahnnie realize just how much she'd been holding in since the start of these new troubles. She hugged _Darktown's Deal_ to her chest and openly wept into Evelyn's shoulder, making no effort to stifle the volume of her cries and sniffs. "I was just starting to be comfortable in Thedas," she sobbed. "Everything was going so well...I was proud of myself for once in my life, and then...and then...! It all came down like a fucking huge _slap_ to the face!"

"I know, I know," Evelyn crooned, stroking her fingers through the matted black hair. "Life's unfair like that."

The mage stood still as she continued to embrace the crying girl, whose grief butchered words by this point into incomprehensible splutters. The spectacle drew quite an amount of attention from the people around them, both of Trevelyan and Inquisition employ. As they recognized the Herald of Andraste sobbing in Lady Evelyn's arms, they grew quiet, remembering that the fabled conquerer of the Breach was but a mortal being like the rest of them, and had been just as battered by the winds of fate as had the most common civilian.

While she was thus occupied, Lord Robert made the order for the wagons to pull further into the courtyard as the rear of the convoy was coming up the bridge. He also waved his men to help unload the goods into the waiting arms of a very grateful Inquisition. Ahnnie's sobs began to subside at this point and she stood awhile with Evelyn to clear the rest of it out of her system before getting back to work.

Optimism swelled in her breast for the first time in what seemed a long time as she joined in the distribution of the much-needed supplies; but alongside that optimism lived a dark and seething thought. A seed had been planted as she had cried the sadness out of her heart, a seed born from the ashes of Haven and the heat of a new determination simply summed into four words:

_Corypheus...you will pay!_

 

\------------------------------------------

 

**=Author's Note=**

So the little thing about Ahnnie's nose reminded me that I haven't actually gone in-depth on her looks. I try not to do that too much with characters, since most of the time appearance can be inferred based on a few perfunctory details. I'm sure by now you all have your own visual interpretations of her but if you're curious about how I see Ahnnie, I base her looks off of my cousin. I'm not sure what Ao3's policy is on posting photos of real people so I did my best and also first attempt at realistic art (you can click[ here ](https://ibb.co/hxuci5)to look at the source pics of my cousin that I used as reference. She kindly gave permission for me to use and show them for your viewing pleasure. I planned to do all three but butchered the lips so badly I just did the one on the far right):

 

Honestly you can tell that realism is not my strong suit. The face was difficult enough and I pretty much half-assed the hair. Below is what my regular drawing is more like and what I would've just settled for, if it weren't for that sudden burst of inspiration:

 

 

My cousin is also cool with the whole 'big nose' thing and will certainly not kill me for having fun with it in this chapter :). But, y'know, if for some reason I suddenly stop posting...you guys now know why. 


	5. The Inquisitor

"They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage."

Ahnnie swept her gaze over the courtyard. Tents and makeshift shelters still crowded the edges, but as more of Skyhold was successfully cleared, any new ones that popped up were mostly gone within the week; new faces mingled alongside familiar ones and the courtyard buzzed with livelier chatter than before. "Indeed it is, Evelyn."

Shortly after the Trevelyans' arrival, more people began finding their way to Skyhold. They ranged from fresh-faced recruits hoping to make a difference, to Chantry Mothers from Ferelden and Orlais and even some rogue templars who'd decided to lend their blades to a different cause. Madame Vivienne's connections in particular were helpful in attaining the charity of generous nobles, especially regarding the labor plus equipment required for the ongoing work on Skyhold. The newcomers all had varied reasons for arriving, but Ahnnie understood the two main things that drew them to be thus:

The Inquisition, in sealing the Breach, proved itself to be a worthwhile force; and then the threat of Corypheus, with his Red Templar army and promise of destruction, was too great a threat for them to ignore.

Those two things combined brought them all together in such a manner as Ahnnie had not the chance to see even in her time on Earth. It was with a measure of pride and awe that she stood beside Evelyn now, witnessing firsthand one of the greatest miracles of sentient interaction that had, no doubt, accomplished many great deeds in the past and would continue to do so in the future -

Coming under a common cause.

 _Solas was right,_ Ahnnie thought. _We can grow here. We_ are _growing here._

Evelyn watched her expression with a smile and gestured for her to follow. "In that case, you will need someone who can help keep its growing stores organized. Someone with a good head for figures, a good memory, and an even better penchant for negotiating."

"Josephine?"

They shared a laugh. "Not quite," Evelyn said when she was done, "but close enough."

As they walked along the courtyard, Ahnnie became aware of a gentle pressure slinking lazily against her calf. She looked down and smiled at the grey tabby feline purring at her feet, yellow-green eyes blinking up at her like sparkling peridot. "Hey there, Silver," she cooed, and reached a hand down to rub the little head. Without a moment's notice, the cat suddenly leapt into her arms and forced her to cradle it, an arm on its bottom and another across its back, to keep it from falling. The peridot orbs were unapologetic; a demanding mew parted the white whiskers shortly after. Ahnnie laughed and scratched Silver's fluffy ears.

"Max was only one she ever did that to," Evelyn murmured. "I could always pet her, but never could I get her to demand affection from me."

Ahnnie knew not whether to feel uncomfortable or flattered by this revelation. It seemed that the more time she spent with Evelyn, the more the mage saw her missing brother in the Herald of Andraste. Silver's interactions with her, for one, or something she would say offhandedly, even down to the particular way she adjusted herself when sitting; it only seemed to reinforce the theory of parallels Solas had mentioned back in Haven. But Maxwell was, as ever, a touchy subject for the girl. "I can tell she was well cared for," Ahnnie remarked, changing the subject. "The Ostwick Circle must have loved her."

"Oh, she was our mascot," Evelyn laughed. "When it came down to her, both mages and templars could agree on something for once. We all raised her as a kitten, you know. She was supposed to catch mice, but I think she caught more treats than mice. She was so sad when Maxwell left for the Conclave..."

Luckily for Ahnnie, the Trevelyan went no further than that. Evelyn stopped them by a group of people inspecting goods beneath the direction of a yellow haired man. His back was turned to them, and so engrossed was he in his duty that he didn't notice their approach. When she got close enough, Evelyn reached out and tapped him playfully on the shoulder.

"Oh!" he started, whirling about with a frightened jump-step. His widened eyes settled as he recognized Evelyn. "Oh bells, it's you," he wheezed with a nervous cough.

Evelyn smiled. "Good morning to you too, Eustace. I don't suppose you've made the acquaintance of Lady Phạm yet?"

Eustace blinked, seemingly oblivious as to what Evelyn was driving at. Then he noticed the black haired girl standing beside her. "O-oh!" he stuttered. "Right, I apologize." Clearing his throat, he introduced himself as, "Morris. Ser Morris, I suppose. I am serving as quartermaster for Skyhold and its, um, arriving throngs. Stores are growing, as you can see." He gestured at the crates and wagons behind him. "And so long as we have fair coin to restock, you and yours will be well served." Another nervous cough.

It took Ahnnie a moment to realize that the coughs and throat-clearing were nervous tics. Studying Eustace's jumpy demeanor, she found that she could relate. _I'd been the same way, not too long ago..._ "A pleasure to meet you, Ser Morris," she smiled. "You can just call me 'Ahnnie'." She shifted her grasp on Silver as she tilted her head in thought. "So, you know Evelyn?"

"Can't say we're thick as thieves," Evelyn confessed, "but he's a well-loved distant cousin of the Trevelyans." She hooked a chummy arm over Eustace's shoulder. "Go on, Ser Morris - tell the Herald of Andraste your qualifications."

Poor Eustace blinked confusedly at Evelyn, and then at Ahnnie. "My family has ties to several freehold militias," he began at last, "as well as cousins acting as officers in Ferelden and Orlais."

Evelyn tapped an impatient finger on his collarbone. "Your qualifications?"

"M-my family holds treaties with three new-money Tevinter houses, _and_ a rare Orzammar contract with a Paragon namesake!"

"Oh, for Andraste's sake - Eustace, _your_ qualifications!"

Eustace flinched beneath the volume of her voice so near his ear. "To be honest, Evelyn, that was _my_ question!"

"Then why did you agree to come here?" she retorted. "Great Maker, why did I even waste my time introducing you to the Herald of Andraste?

The young man fidgeted beneath Evelyn's glare. Drawing in a deep breath, he blurted out, "I am the nexus of a dozen threads tied by others, designed to cast the widest and most appealing resource net. But! Or, I mean...because of that! I will rise to the occasion. Skyhold will want for nothing! I swear it! _Aherm_!"

Evelyn finally released him from her grasp and threw her hands up in exasperation. "There! That wasn't so hard to say, now was it? Although you _could've_ added your resourceful genius to the mix - that one time Father's flour supplier mixed up orders and delivered months late, for one. You managed to stretch the remaining flour by adjusting bread recipes and won us a better contract. And what you did for Rob's trip to Haven, when we brought along an excess of meat by mistake - you got us extra salt at a superb bargain last minute, which cut down considerably on our excess waste once we reached the Imperial Highway. In short," Evelyn huffed, turning to Ahnnie, "he may not act very competent and it may seem at first that he's got nothing but connections going for him. But I've seen what he can do, and I believe in him."

"But then..." Ahnnie frowned confusedly at Evelyn. "What _are_ his qualifications?"

"Hmm? Oh! Right. He was being groomed for the role of main negotiator of his family's trade deals, but he's worked with ours several times in the past. And then we all heard of Skyhold. Little hero-boy couldn't turn down the invitation to be part of something bigger," Evelyn added cheekily.

Eustace's face burned in what could only be embarrassment. "If you are quite finished."

"Of course," Ahnnie nodded. "Sorry for interrupting your work. And thanks, for your swear. It means a lot."

The Inquisition's new quartermaster reddened now for a different reason. "Y-you're most welcome, Lady Phạm. _Aherm._ "

Evelyn shook her head as she and Ahnnie moved away. "And that's the very man who arranged our first wave of supplies. Can you imagine?"

Ahnnie looked back at Eustace and then down at the clean new tunic she wore. She was instantly conscious of the fullness in her belly and the soft feel of freshly washed hair against her cheeks. "I can imagine," said she with a satisfactory sigh.

It shouldn't have come as a surprise that the next topic of conversation was Varric's books. Ahnnie had recently started reading _Hard in Hightown_ again and was nearing the last few chapters. She had also dabbed a bit in _Darktown's Deal_ and was eyeing _Swords and Shields_ as the next possible read. Though she had more leisurely time than before, there was only so much she could cram between the duties of her current schedule; even now this little walk of theirs would soon come to an end, and then Ahnnie would be required somewhere by the cleaning crews or the Big Four.

"Say, Evelyn," she began before she could forget, "I wrote to you about Cole; did you get that letter?"

The Trevelyan pursed her lips in thought before nodding. "Yes, I did. Thank you for reminding me. Now, this...Cole...you say he takes on the form of a human?"

"He looks and feels human. Like, he's solid and can bleed."

"And he was in your mind, when Envy tried to take your body?"

"Yes..." Ahnnie had left out the details of Cole's corrupted future, however.

Evelyn frowned. "I'd hate to tell you this, Ahnnie, but...demons and spirits don't usually appear in complete human form. The only ones who can do so - or at least appear to do so - are desire demons. And I'm not sure if you're aware, but desire demons rank highly on the Brahm's Scale. The higher the rank, the more powerful and dangerous."

Ahnnie's eyes widened in shock. _What!?_ But before she could ask for clarification, a big shadow suddenly fell over her. She guessed correctly as she looked up to meet its owner. "Commander Cullen," she greeted amiably. "Do you need me for something?" _I hope he didn't hear what Evelyn was talking about. Did he hear it? He doesn't look like he did..._

But the way the Commander regarded Evelyn seemed, to Ahnnie, an indicator of having heard some of the words. She only hoped he didn't make the connection to Cole, though it wasn't clear if he still remembered the ragged young man. "Seeker Cassandra would like to have a word with the Herald," the Commander said at last. "She's by the stairs to the upper courtyard."

Evelyn opened her mouth to say something, but took it back a moment later with a fleeting glance at the Commander. "I'll see you later, then," she said to Ahnnie. "I've got to run off and see what Rob might need me for."

"In that case, Lady Trevelyan, I've a matter I'd like to discuss with your brother," Cullen interjected. "If you know where he is..."

"Oh, yes," Evelyn nodded, and turned aside to lead the Commander away. "Just over this way." She sent a brief glance at Ahnnie over her shoulder, but whipped it away when she caught the girl staring, and disappeared thereafter down the courtyard with Cullen.

Ahnnie wondered at the strange behavior, but released Silver and nodded anyway. "How bad could it be?" she pondered aloud, taking Evelyn's unease to mean Cassandra's words would not be pleasant.

She arrived to find the Seeker in murmured conversation with Josephine. The ambassador perked up at the girl's approach and nodded at Cassandra before also dispersing on her own way. "I see you have been busy with Lady Evelyn Trevelyan this morning," Cassandra remarked once they were alone, hands folded behind her back.

"We were just taking a walk," Ahnnie explained. "Mostly to talk about Skyhold's growing population."

The Seeker's sharp eyes surveyed the lower courtyard before she gestured for Ahnnie to follow up the stairs. "If word has reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One," she began. "We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated."

Ahnnie shook her head dryly as they mounted the steps. "No kidding. I thought the Breach was impossible enough...even for a magical world, Corypheus was a giant plot twist."

"But we now know what allowed you to stand against him, what drew him to you," Cassandra pointed out.

 _So this is about Corypheus?_ Ahnnie wondered as they reached the landing at the upper courtyard. She stopped to look down at her scarred hand, its glow subdued in the bright morning light. "He came for this," she murmured, "and now that he can't use it, he wants me dead."

Cassandra studied the green mark as well with an indiscernible expression. "The Anchor has power, but it's not why you're still standing here." She then led the girl up another flight of stairs, this one leading to the entrance of Skyhold's main hall. "Your cooperation and determination let us heal the sky. You could have chosen to take advantage of that moment to leave us all to our fate, but you didn't. You are the creature's rival because of what you _did_. And we know it. All of us." She paused a moment to let that sink in before continuing, "The Inquisition requires a leader..."

As they crested the stairs to a joint landing just below the hall's entrance, Ahnnie caught sight of Leliana with her head bowed over a ceremonial broadsword laid horizontally in her hands. She wondered why the spymaster would be doing such a thing until Cassandra uttered the single word, "You."

Ahnnie looked from Cassandra to Leliana in confusion. As the realization began dawning upon her, a sursurrus of voices echoed from below and she craned her head to the side to see people gathering in the lower courtyard, their eyes upturned on the three women above. She spied several of the companions amongst them - Solas, Blackwall, Dorian, the Iron Bull, Sera...a short turn later, she recognized Commander Cullen and Lady Josephine, along with a beaming Evelyn and Eustace. Netta suddenly became visible above the many heads as Osbert hefted the child onto his thick shoulders.

Ahnnie drew back and shook her head at Cassandra in disbelief. "I'm sorry, what...? Take advantage of what moment?"

"Solas told us all," Cassandra explained. "The Breach was your only chance to return home. I am sorry I ever doubted you...the more I think on what he said, the more it makes sense now. The strange things you carried with you, your appearance, your mannerisms and writings - yes, I read your journal," she admitted when Ahnnie frowned, "but only during the time you spent with Sister Magdelene - all these things about you are so different from here. I cannot begin to imagine the enormity of the sacrifice you have made. These people all have their lives because of you...they will follow."

Ahnnie's frown deepened as she looked back towards the crowd at Solas' bald head. _What sacrifice? I didn't make any sacrifice!_ Because if she remembered correctly, there was no feasible way for her to have entered the Breach. How could Cassandra construe that to mean she willingly chose not to? Unless... _Hahren, what did you tell her?_

"I will not lie," Cassandra went on, snapping her focus back on the Seeker. "Handing this power to anyone is troubling, but I have to believe this is meant to be. For without you, there would be no Inquisition." The Seeker gestured at the sword in Leliana's hands, and the spymaster came forward to proffer it to the girl. It blazed in the sun with a burnished coppery hue, the rain guard an angry dragon's head and the crossguard its outstretched wings while a coiling tail made up the hilt. "Take it," she said, "and raise it for the people to see."

Ahnnie stared at the dragon's eyes, little beveled ellipses carved artistically into the metal. She wondered for what sort of purpose Solas would help manipulate such an event. "Still," she remarked, "this is all so...random. You should have chosen someone more...I dunno...like you?"

"Is it really?" Cassandra countered. "What these people need now is not someone whom they feel beyond reach. The advisors and I have seen how they regard you. To them, you are a reminder that heroes come in every shape and form. Even when they disagree with you, you feel real - and that reality is more comforting now than any claims of legend." Her sharp eyes softened a tad, and her voice grew gentle. "Though you may not believe in yourself, Ahnnie Phạm, know that all of Skyhold believes in you."

The sincerity in the Seeker's voice touched Ahnnie tenderly. And now, her introduction to Eustace suddenly made more sense. She took a moment to digest the new events as she pondered the dragon sword again, this time with a different light in her eyes. "Corypheus intends to rule over everyone as a god," the girl murmured. "He must be stopped..." She finally reached out and wrapped a hand around the scaly hilt, her gaze flicking upwards at Cassandra as she did so. "But that's the only reason why I'm taking this up."

"So be it," Cassandra nodded.

The Seeker took a step backwards as Ahnnie hefted the broadsword into both hands. She stumbled at first from the unexpected weight, but regained her balance a second later and held the sword upright.

Assured of the girl's grip, Cassandra strode over to the edge of the landing. "Have our people been told?" she cried down at the crowd.

"They have," Josephine yelled back, exotic voice ringing, "and soon, the world!"

"Commander," Cassandra called out next, "will they follow?"

Cullen turned around to face the gathered people. "Inquisition, will you follow?" he asked of them.

Their resounding cheers rose above the courtyard in a deafening chorus. For every following question the Commander posed to them, the people shouted their assent louder and louder:

"Will you fight?"

"Yah!"

"Will we triumph?"

" _Yah!_ "

"Your leader, your Herald-" Cullen unsheathed his sword as he spun back around, blade held high in Ahnnie's direction. "Your _Inquisitor_!"

The final round of cheers was the loudest of them all.

* * *

 

Skyhold's main hall was much neater than when she'd originally laid eyes on it. Ahnnie traced the length of the hall to the dais at the end, remembering the dusty and filthy mess it had once been. Broken stone and wood used to lay clattered about the place like a half-finished renovation, and ugly-colored stains that she feared would be permanent had smeared the old stones most distastefully. Now everything was as pristine as could be and just lacked tapestries, a regal carpet, some braziers, and a throne to make it complete.

But Ahnnie was not here to help plan its décor. "This way to the undercroft," Cassandra announced as she led Ahnnie to a door on the right of the dais; the three advisors followed close behind, and when they came through, it was to stand in what appeared to be a cavernous space hidden beneath the shimmering curtain of a great waterfall. The floor was manmade, consisting of familiar cobbled patterns leading with stairs on three sides to a lower tier before ending at a balcony several feet away from the falling water.

A forge burned brightly in a corner of the cave, followed by various crafting tables placed throughout. Ahnnie couldn't guess much at what they were used for; they seemed to be workstations for assembling different pieces, but pieces of what? The oddities strewn about puzzled her greatly. The best she had been able to hint at was a table for armor crafting.

"Ah, Lady Cassandra," Harritt saluted as he came forward.

The Seeker nodded back in acknowledgement. "Where is the arcanist?"

"Oh!" The blacksmith wiped his dirty hands onto his smock and looked about the undercroft. "Dagna!" he shouted. "Where're you? Inquisition's here, for the-"

"Coming!" a cheery, youthful voice returned, and Ahnnie thought at first that it was a child jogging out to them from one of the worktables. As she learned with Harding, though, the auburn haired young woman before her was no child; she was a dwarf. "Hello, there," she greeted Ahnnie with a little wave.

"Our new arcanist," Cassandra introduced at last.

"Dagna, _Arcanist_ Dagna," the dwarf supplied with a brief bow. "It's an honor, Inquisitor." Her bright eyes then flitted over to Ahnnie's left hand, attracted by the dim green light. "Is that it? The hand-Anchor-mark? It's pretty!" she gushed.

Ahnnie blinked in surprise. "Oh, thanks..." No one had ever called the Anchor 'pretty' before.

"The Breach was pretty too, in a...'destroy everything', sort of way," Dagna giggled. She stopped, however, as she noticed the unamused faces of the spymaster, Seeker, and Commander behind Ahnnie. "But I digress. So - I guess you'll be wanting to see it now?"

"See what now?"

"Oh, the - didn't they tell you?" Dagna gestured confusedly at the Big Four.

"Your new glaive," Leliana clarified when Ahnnie turned to them. "We were aware you had lost your old one back at Haven, so we'd commissioned a new one in its stead."

Ahnnie nodded, understanding now. "That's great," she commented. "Yeah, I would like to see it, if you don't mind."

Upon that word, Dagna ran back excitedly to the worktable she'd been occupied at and returned to them with a shining new glaive-guisarme in hand. "Harritt and I made it together," she boasted. "Well, he made the weapon, but I was the one who added that extra 'zing', so it's not just _any_ glaive. It's better; stronger! Your old one got crushed by a dragon? Well, tough luck with this one!"

The weapon before her was as beautiful as it was deadly. The shaft, made of a rich, dark wood, was polished to a sheen and etched with pretty patterns along the two common handholds known to polearm fighters. It was one of these handholds that Ahnnie grabbed now as she stared in awe at the gleaming crescent blade and sharp hook, decorated with whirling patterns welded in the metal, and the rather embellished flame-shaped bladed end–

" _Gyaaahwaaahwhaaat!?_ " came the unceremonious scream as a blast of fire suddenly erupted from the glaive's head. Dagna let out a cry of shock as well and almost dropped the flaming weapon; everyone else jumped a little at the sudden light and noise. As Ahnnie yanked her hand away, canceling the flames, Dagna breathed out a nervous chuckle.

"S-sorry about that," she wheezed, trying to stifle her laughter. "I was going to tell you that it's...it's enchanted."

Ahnnie stared shell-shocked at the new glaive before regaining the presence of mind to reach for it again. "So it...does that when I press...here?" She brushed a cautious finger along what was now a glowing pattern in the wood.

Dagna cleared her throat. "Um, yeah. Well, first of all, I inscribed lyrium runes to enhance its durability. Right...there," she pointed near the head. "Those're passive, always activated even when you don't touch it, so now you've got a weapon that doesn't break as easily. And then you've got the fire runes on the handholds! All you gotta do is just hold 'em like so, and clench." She performed a demonstration, resulting in twin bursts of flame that erupted from both head and bladed end. "Harritt made sure to choose a more fire-resistant type of metal," she explained, "plus I tinkered a bit with some fire resistance inscriptions for the shaft. It's all in there, not to worry; the only thing you're manually in charge of is the fire. And if it goes iffy for any reason whatsoever, just bring it back to me and I'll fix it right up!"

"Wait...lyrium runes?" Ahnnie asked, suddenly apprehensive.

"How else would the enchantments work?" Dagna laughed. "It's not raw lyrium, though. Now _that_ stuff is bad. I work with refined lyrium; once it's been constituted into liquid or powder, it's pretty much safe for anybody to handle. Here, you can handle it now!"

Dagna passed the weapon over to her and Ahnnie took it tentatively into her hands. She slowly traced its length, feeling the smooth wood and carved grooves of the inscribed runes along the shaft; she enclosed the upper handhold cautiously, but seeing no fire, relaxed her grip and swung it about in a few practice movements. Then she brought it down and gave a deliberate clench. Fire spat from the crescent head and blew away into nothing when she released the rune.

"I get it now," the girl nodded. "I just shouldn't have grasped it so forcefully...this is pretty neat, Dagna. You too, Harritt," she nodded as well at the blacksmith. "I'm honored you both made this for me. Thanks!"

The dwarven Arcanist beamed up at her with pride. "Anytime, Inquisitor." Harritt on the other hand turned away sheepishly, hiding his bashfulness behind a sudden interest in a speck on his smock.

"Corporal Hargrave will assist you in learning techniques to handle its new properties," Cassandra told Ahnnie. "It was not our original plan to have it enchanted, but Arcanist Dagna wanted a chance to prove her skills."

"So you enchant things?" Ahnnie asked Dagna curiously.

The dwarf pursed her lips in thought. "Well...it's more like this. I was born to the smith caste in Orzammar," Dagna explained, "but you've a man for that already, and a good one. I'm here because of my passion for magic. I can't actually _do_ magic because I'm a dwarf, but that also means no risk of possession. Safer than a mage!" she winked. "Magical study, magical theory, magical _enchantment_ , and through it, the manipulation of _masterworks_ ; I studied it all with an objective eye. No secrets, no fears. That lets me apply principles like no other. So think of me like a magic crafter; bring me what you want made, and I'll make sure it goes just right."

Ahnnie smiled. "All right. I'll remember that."

"Arcanist Dagna has great skill and a reputation for humbling first enchanters in both Andrastian _and_ Imperial Circles," Josephine mused as the five of them exited the undercroft. Ahnnie's new glaive gleamed behind her back, now attached to her person by a complimentary leather strap from Dagna and Harritt. "Two assassination attempts and at least one explosion made landholders reluctant to allow her passage through their territory...but with a bit of effort, we were able to bring her here from Tantervale."

Cullen snorted in amusement. "If that's what Leliana calls 'a bit of effort', then I'm a Mabari's uncle."

"Much better than sending over a full retinue of soldiers, at any rate," Leliana retorted. "But now, to the war room; shall we?"

Ahnnie perked up at that, excited to see which corner of Skyhold they'd chosen for the war room. Before anyone could say anything, however, a flustered Inquisition soldier cut in between them to tell Cassandra something. She whispered in the Seeker's ear while throwing uncertain glances at Ahnnie and the advisors, and the more she spoke, the more Cassandra frowned. "I cannot come with you at the moment," she told them at last. "There is something I must look into. I shall join you there at a later time."

"Very well, then," Josephine said, and led them across the hall; Ahnnie glanced back at Cassandra once over her shoulder, wondering briefly what had perturbed the Seeker so.

* * *

 

"So this is where it begins."

Cullen's voice echoed against the stones in an almost hushed reverence as the advisors and newly named Inquisitor stepped into the new war room. It was a spacious chamber with a vaulted ceiling, illuminated along a wall by tall bow windows from which fresh sunlight spilled through. A curling chandelier lay dormant above their heads and a large table made from a polished tree slab sat before the windows, dappled in the shadows of the criss-crossed grilles.

"It began in the courtyard," Leliana interjected. "This is where we turn that promise into action."

The four of them stopped before the table, upon which was spread the familiar map of Thedas that detailed Orlais, Ferelden, and most of the Free Marches. Little dust motes floated in the golden light before settling on the worn parchment, disappearing against the contours of wrinkles and dark ink. Ahnnie fought back the temptation to blow them off as she stared down at the map.

"But what do we do?" Lady Josephine asked. "We know nothing about Corypheus except that he wanted Lady Ahnnie's mark."

Silence enveloped them for a while, in which Ahnnie could feel the three advisor's eyes on her back. She fished through her mind for something to say, something to be useful and appropriate in her new role. "Corypheus mentioned 'championing withered Tevinter'," she said at last, "Does going against him mean waging war with the Imperium?"

"I get the feeling we're dealing with extremists, not the vanguard of a true invasion," Cullen pointed out.

"Tevinter is not the Imperium of a thousand years ago," Josephine added. "What Corypheus yearns to restore no longer exists...though they would shed no tears if the South fell to chaos, I'm certain."

 _Oh, that's right,_ Ahnnie remembered. Her comparisons of the Roman Empire now shifted more towards the Byzantine era - _still, these extremists can do damage, especially with someone like Corypheus around._ "Okay, then," she nodded. "Now, correct me if I'm wrong...it sounds like Corypheus wants to enter the Black City in order to become a god. Is that plausible?"

Leliana's delicate features hardened. "He's willing to tear this world apart to reach the next. It won't matter if he's wrong."

"What if he's not wrong?" Cullen asked hypothetically. "If he finds some other way into the Fade?"

"Then he gains the power he seeks to unleash catastrophe on us all."

Ahnnie pursed her lips in consternation. "That dragon of his," she remembered. "What is it Cole said it was...an archdemon? What is that?"

"Archdemons are the Old Gods tainted by darkspawn," Leliana explained grimly. "The presence of another one now would mean the beginning of another Blight."

Josephine tilted her head in thought. "We've seen no darkspawn other than Corypheus himself," she pointed out. "Perhaps it's not an archdemon at all, but something different?"

"Maybe it's just a dragon?" Ahnnie suggested, but then remembered that if Corypheus was considered a darkspawn, then he would have tainted the dragon into an Archdemon. "Never mind, that was a stupid question..."

"Whatever it is, it's dangerous," Cullen concluded tersely. "Commanding such a creature gives Corypheus an advantage we can't ignore."

Ahnnie's brows furrowed in frustration. "Someone out there must know _something_ about him," she insisted desperately. "Something we can use to gain an advantage with."

The Commander shook his head. "Unless they saw him on the field, most will not believe he even exists. I doubt anyone has ever really known enough about him to help us."

"But we do have one advantage," Leliana put in. "We know what Corypheus intends to do _next_. In that strange future you experienced, Empress Celene had been assassinated. Such plans had also been discovered in the Seeker headquarters. And then he found a way into your world, incorporating its technology into his arsenal..."

"I believe sealing the Breach took care of that second plan," Ahnnie said. "Which leaves Empress Celene's assassination for now, at least until Corypheus finds some other way back into the Fade."

Josephine's dark eyes seemed to broil with misgiving. "Imagine the chaos her death would cause," the ambassador murmured. "With his army..."

"An army he'll bolster with a massive force of demons," Cullen added, "or so the future tells us. Otherworldly technology would not even be required."

The Antivan ambassador's voice trembled in foreboding as she shook her head. "Corypheus could conquer the entire south of Thedas, god or no god."

Ahnnie sighed and planted her weight on both hands against the edge of the war table. Of course, how could she forget the demon army part? Already less than an hour into her new Inquisitorship, and she was stressing out. "Ugh!" she half-groaned, half-spat. "I'd feel better if we knew more about what we're dealing with..."

"I know someone who can help with that," a smoky voice cut in from behind them.

They whirled their heads around to the war room entrance, where they found Varric leaning nonchalantly against the doorway. "What?" the dwarf asked. "You left the door open. You can't _not_ expect eavesdropping when you leave the door open."

Ahnnie couldn't help the smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "Don't leave us hanging," she said to Varric, gesturing him inside. "If you know such a someone, it'd be much appreciated."

Varric grinned back as he strode into the war room. "Everyone acting all inspirational jogged my memory, so I sent a message to an old friend. He's crossed paths with Corypheus before, and may know more about what he's doing. He can help."

If she didn't check herself, her jaw would have dropped straight to the floor. _All this guessing and deducing and dreading, and_ _a friend of Varric's is the one who knows something!?_ "What? Really? Who?" she demanded in rapidfire succession.

Varric cringed at the volume of her voice and looked about, as if for fear of being overheard. "Parading around might cause a fuss," he answered her in lowered tones, and stepped closer until he was within murmuring distance. "It's better for you to meet privately. On the battlements."

This sudden secrecy caused Cullen to cross his arms and Leliana to exchange a curious glance with Josephine. Ahnnie couldn't help but frown as well, noting how un-Varric like this shifty behavior was.

"Trust me, it's complicated," the dwarf sighed as he shook his head. "I'll let you know when my friend gets here. In the meantime..." He pointed to his closed mouth and tapped it with a stubby index finger before turning away and exiting the war room. They watched his squat figure recede down the corridor and into the antechamber where Josephine's new office also happened to be located, before it disappeared around the doorway into the main hall.

"Well, then," Josephine blinked after a while. "We stand ready to move on both these concerns."

"On your orders, Inquisitor," Commander Cullen nodded, albeit uneasily. "If you trust this friend of his, we will not complain."

"Well..." Ahnnie fidgeted. "I suppose I do. I trust Varric, after all..."

Leliana's tone, on the other hand, was grave. "If this person is who I _think_ it is, Cassandra is going to kill him."

* * *

 

Ahnnie was shown to yet another new room in Skyhold shortly after the war room. Its door was situated in the upper left corner of the main hall, directly across the dais from the undercroft. A wooden walkway overlooking a corridor under construction served as the antechamber, and after going up a flight of stone steps, she found herself standing in a bedchamber five times the size of her old cabin in Haven. She stood staring at the queen-sized bed, the upholstered couch, the imposing wooden desk and armchair for what seemed like an eternity. A regal fireplace lay against the wall opposite the bed, flanked by a pair of double paned doors leading out to a magnificent balcony that commanded a stunning view of the Frostback mountains. As if that weren't enough, a spacious loft overlooked everything, accessible via a staircase through an open archway in the wall behind the bed.

"This is my room?" she asked incredulously.

"Is it to your liking, Inquisitor?" the soldier beside her asked.

A breathy laugh escaped her lips. "Are you kidding me?" Ahnnie asked back. "I _love_ it!"

The soldier smiled in relief. "Then I shall leave your belongings here, if it pleases you."

"Oh, sure, anywhere!"

The Inquisition soldier laid a small bag of clothes and the two books by Varric onto the desk. They served as the entirety of her possessions for now, but she couldn't care less. She was too busy fawning over the room, taking in the vaulted ceiling above, the soft comfyness of the bed, the closet space right next to it - a moment later she was admiring the craftsmanship of the desk and the empty shelves behind, waiting to be filled. She ran up to the loft and enjoyed a bird's-eye view of her new room before running back down to put her things away in a large dresser by the bed. And finally, with a look of awe on her face, she walked out to the balcony and drank in the vast mountain scenery before her.

"I could get used to this," she murmured to herself as she leaned against the balustrade. Though the room was largely bare of decorations for now, it shined to Ahnnie like the luxury of a five-star hotel. "Perhaps becoming Inquisitor wasn't so bad..."

A rap on one of the paned doors reminded her that she wasn't alone. "Inquisitor?" the soldier inquired. "I apologize, but word's just come in that you're required in the courtyard by Seeker Cassandra." Another Inquisition soldier's head peeked at her from inside the room, and Ahnnie released her grip on the balustrade with a reluctant sigh.

 _What is it about this time?_ she wondered as she followed the second soldier out. _I hope it's not another surprise..._ the Inquisitor thing had been spontaneous enough. She hoped it would be something more routine this time around, so she was confused and then reticent when she found the Seeker in a heated discussion with Madame Vivienne, Solas, and Evelyn; a heated discussion about...

"Inquisitor," Cassandra cut off as she saw Ahnnie approaching, "I wondered at first if Cole was a perhaps mage, given his unusual abilities." Her sharp eyes narrowed. "Now I realize he is not."

Ahnnie slowed to a stop by the circle they had formed and studied the faces of the four gathered. What she found was not very pleasant. After dismissing the soldier who had escorted her, she asked, "Did Cole do something?"

Madame Vivienne immediately pounced on the new discussion, voice dripping with displeasure. "That _thing_ is not a puppy you can make into a pet," she spat. "It has no business here."

"Wouldn't you say the same of an apostate?" Solas countered; though his voice was largely controlled, there was no missing its undercurrent of vexation.

Vivienne certainly didn't and shot him an icy sidelong glance in response. "An apostate, at the very least, has a measure of predictability," she retorted.

"You never told us about him being present in your mind during Envy's attempted possession," Cassandra then reproached Ahnnie. "A fact you felt quite comfortable sharing with Lady Trevelyan months after the fact."

Ahnnie looked confusedly at Evelyn, who shook her head in earnest. "I didn't tell her about it," the mage insisted. "Rather, it was..."

The arguing four turned their heads around to look at something behind Evelyn, which Ahnnie discovered a moment later to be Cole himself. The young man sat cross-legged on the ground, waving his hands about in play with Maiden. Ahnnie stared at him incomprehensibly for a few seconds before turning back to the others. "Just what, exactly, is going on?" she asked them slowly.

Vivienne gave a disdainful sniff at the sight of Cole. "It wants to join the Inquisition."

Ahnnie immediately frowned at the Madame. "Cole is a 'he'."

"A demon masquerading as a 'he'," the Court Enchanter corrected. "For that is what it is; a demon."

"If you prefer," Solas interposed, "although the truth is somewhat more complex than that."

"And what is the truth, pray tell?" asked Vivienne with a cross of her arms.

Ahnnie turned helplessly to Evelyn yet again. " _Is_ he a demon?"

The Trevelyan shook her head, a confused frown etched on her features. "No...at least, not that I could sense. But that also might be indicative of a particularly powerful demon..."

"My thoughts exactly," Cassandra agreed.

Ahnnie's heart sank with every affirmation from each of the three women. She had hoped the truth would not be as drastic as they claimed. It confused her that someone - or something? - as benevolent as Cole seemed could be...well, a powerful demon.

"He can cause people to forget him, or even fail entirely to notice him," Solas then said, recapturing Ahnnie's attention. "These are not the abilities of a mage; and since there is no definitive proof of him being a demon, it would seem that Cole is a spirit."

"But this violates everything we know about the Fade," Cassandra argued.

Solas nodded sagely. "So it does."

Madame Vivienne shook her head exasperatedly at the elf and insisted, almost demanded Ahnnie to, "Tell that thing it is not welcome here. I shudder to think of what the Inquisition is coming to, if it allows a _demon_ to skulk about its ranks."

Ahnnie's breath caught in her throat. Was that a threat of withdrawal from the Imperial Court Enchanter of Orlais? If so, the stakes were higher than she previously thought. But to appease the disgruntled Enchanter went against her conscience. "Cole helped save me from Envy," she argued. "Without him, I wouldn't have had the strength to think of good memories like Solas told me to. And then he warned us about Corypheus at Haven, an action that saved a lot of lives! Without Cole, we probably wouldn't even be here in the first place!"

"And what will its help cost?" Madame Vivienne challenged. "How many lives will this demon later claim?"

"I'm sorry, Ahnnie," Evelyn apologized as the distraught girl looked over to her. "I...I have to agree. Never have I seen anything like this before, and..."

Only Solas seemed to be her beacon of light in this troubling moment. "Contrary to what you all believe, his nature is not so easily defined," he contended.

"Speak plainly, Solas," Cassandra requested. "What _are_ we dealing with?"

"Demons normally enter this world by possessing something," he explained. "In their true form, they look bizarre, monstrous. Cole, however, appears as a young human male."

"Is it possession?" the Seeker asked.

Evelyn shook her head in defeat. "If it is, it is the most expertly done possession I have ever seen."

"No," Solas negated. "He has possessed nothing and no one, and yet he appears human in all respects. Cole is unique, Inquisitor," he remarked to Ahnnie. "More than that, he wishes to help. I suggest you allow him to do so."

A tight noise escaped the Madame's mouth. "Do not delude her further, hedge mage," she snapped. "She is already misinformed enough. Demons either possess something from this world or are summoned and bound; they almost _never_ look like someone you'd mistake for a person."

Solas made a sharp inhalation as he faced Vivienne. "Normally you would be correct," he huffed, "but Cole has willfully manifested in human form without possessing anyone."

"Did I say he was possessing anyone?" she countered. "You forget desire demons, which have the ability to manipulate the perceptions of their victims." She turned back towards Ahnnie, dark eyes smoldering. "If you have any concern for the safety of the people here, Inquisitor, you would tell this demon to leave."

 _Three points for demon, one point for spirit._ Ahnnie now felt unsure about where her opinion would fall. She trusted Solas and his observations of the Fade, but to say that the expertise of a Seeker, spirit mage, and Imperial Court Enchanter were dismissible in comparison would be a lie. Her resolve faltered as she considered Vivienne's words in particular. _If Cole really is a demon seeking to claim more lives, then we're in more danger than I thought...but if he's not, and I just heartlessly turn him away..._ the thought of his sad blue eyes assaulting her made her wince. She shook her head in frustration. "Let me talk to him," she said at last. "I'll...see what he has to say for himself."

She couldn't have upset Vivienne more if she tried. "Such words have been the demise of many a mage," the Madame warned. "I beg you to remember that, Inquisitor, in your dealings with that...thing."

That last remark weighed heavily on Ahnnie as she trudged away from the three mages and Seeker over to Cole. _Why is she talking to me like that?_ she thought. _It's not as if I've given him the green light yet. I just said I was going to talk to him, for goodness' sake_. Her frown lightened. _B_ _ut it's not as if I'm going to deny it to him either, aren't I?_ she added with a sigh. _I..._

"...don't know what I'm doing, what I'm _going_ to do," Cole finished for her, and settled his hands down to his sides, much to Maiden's disappointment. The brim of his hat spun around and his sad eyes touched hers a moment later. "I don't want to disappoint or hurt anyone. I just became Inquisitor today."

"Took the words right out of my mouth," Ahnnie heaved through yet another sigh. "I guess you know why I'm here then. Let's...walk while we talk. I don't really want to be close to them at the moment."

They strolled side-by-side through the tents in the courtyard, Maiden padding merrily after them. For a while, Ahnnie said nothing; she half-hoped she wouldn't have to, that it would all blow away a moment later. But she knew that was not how things should be dealt with. _God knows it never worked for me._ She huffed away a stray strand of hair and turned to Cole with the deliberateness of a doomed prisoner, not quite daring to meet his eyes. "So, Cole...you want to join the Inquisiton...how did you, um, go about proclaiming that?"

"You always talk with the Seeker Lady," he began. "And she's always directing things, commanding more than even the big Commander."

"She's Cassandra, and he's Cullen," Ahnnie supplied.

Cole nodded thoughtfully. "So I showed her how I could help. When she still wasn't sure, I told her about how I helped you before."

"Oh, god..." Ahnnie cupped her face in her hands before sliding them upward against her skin in consternation. "You did  _what_? Never mind, don't answer that," she interrupted. "I'm going to guess that Vivienne, Solas, and Evelyn were one of the first people she thought of telling."

"Solas was actually with me," Cole admitted. "He said he wanted to be there too when he saw what I was going to do."

If she was curious about Cole's nature before, she was downright baffled now, filled with more questions than answers. "I don't suppose you can tell me what you exactly are?" Ahnnie asked. "Everyone's got all these opinions, but now that I think of it, you haven't really said anything."

Cole went quiet, and when she looked closely at him, she could see his eyes grow distant. "I used to think I was a ghost," he murmured after a while. "I didn't know. I made mistakes...but I made friends, too. Then a templar proved I wasn't real. I lost my friends. I lost everything. I learned to be more like what I am; it made me different, but stronger. I can feel more. I can help."

Her heart went out to the bedraggled young man, having had lost everything herself twice over now. But his response cleared nothing up. It rather discouraged her that Cole himself didn't even know what he was.  _And_ _I'd hoped a spirit mage, of all mages, would know, but..._

With a frown, she reached out while he wasn't paying attention and pinched him on the upper arm. The young man yelped like a startled cat and flinched away to rub the stinging skin vigorously. "You're not a ghost," she said before he could make a reproach. "That would have just gone through you if you were one. Or at least, that's what I was brought up to believe. Ugh, sorry," she apologized, scratching the back of her neck, " _not_ the best thing to have done. I just...I don't know. If it were up to me alone, I'd let you stay to help."

"Yes, helping," Cole nodded. "I help the hurt, the helpless, there's someone..."

He drifted away of his own accord towards some unknown spot. Ahnnie followed trailed by an excited Maiden, relieved that he put the pinching episode so easily behind him yet curious as to what drew his attention. It was a haggard-looking young woman tending to an injured soldier, face completely sapped of energy and liveliness. It was easy to tell that she had been throwing herself wholeheartedly into her tasks. A Chantry sister approached her slowly from behind...

"Eyes rough, jangling armor hurts my ears," Cole recited. "Back aching, fingers too clumsy for knots. Wind cool like Aunt Eloise's pond. Lips scalded as I sip, warmth blossoms, first kiss in the barn, what was his name?" His voice, moving fast yet dreamlike in a harried dancer's grace, made her think of poetry jams. "Tin jangle as the blood spills, Pierre's wrapped body on the wagon to the Chantry, five more minutes, my fault..."

The young woman noticed the Chantry sister and they exchanged words for a bit. The Chantry sister departed shortly afterward and the young woman turned away with her face in her hands. Ahnnie opened her mouth to say something to Cole as they came close, but found that he had disappeared.

He blinked himself instead over to the young woman, startling her with his sudden address. "It's okay. Nothing you did mattered."

"What?" she gasped as she whirled around. "Who are you?"

"They lie there, and sometimes they die, just like Pierre," he went on. "You can't save them."

"I don't...I don't know who you are," the young woman stuttered, backing away from him.

Cole shook his head. "Wait, that didn't work," he mumbled. "Let me try that again. You'll forget me in a minute." He cleared his throat and came closer to the young woman, eyes boring purposefully into hers. She drew back a step, but did not turn away. "You can't save all of them."

"What?"

"Like Pierre getting sick after you snuck out to Aunt Eloise's pond. You want it to be your fault, so there's a reason and it's not so frightening. But there's no reason," Cole said, shaking his head. "Pierre just got sick. The soldier was never going to live; it wasn't your fault. None of it was, and you have to accept that, to forgive yourself."

He seemed to have touched a chord within her, as her awed face showed. But just as his words were beginning to sink in, he raised his hand and made her forget.

It was a strange thing to watch. The magic that emitted from Cole's palm was a dark, smoky grey, punctuated by silvery tendrils of light. It flashed for about three seconds or so before he put his hand back down by his side. Where Ahnnie would have expected the young woman to scream about strange magic, she simply stood blinking for a while before moving along as if nothing ever happened.

"Better," Cole whispered.

Ahnnie stared at him as if seeing him for the first time. "So you just help people and then make them forget about it?" she blurted. She wondered if this was also how Cole displayed his abilities earlier.  _No wonder Cassandra got pissed..._

He nodded. "It's better to help and then be gone. If I stay, it can be frightening." When he saw her apprehensive look, he sighed. "It's not how a person would do it...but it helped. That's what matters."

Ahnnie wondered what he meant by "frightening", but her mind returned to more pressing matters. "So if I told you to go away," she began, "would you make me forget? Would you make the others forget?"

"If no one wants me around, there'd no reason for them to remember me," he replied. Then he paused. "Are you going to send me away?"

She inwardly cursed herself for allowing herself to feel that conflict about him yet again. "I'm sorry," she quickly apologized, "I..."

Cole looked down at the ground for a moment, hiding his face beneath the wide brim of his hat, and then back up at her. "I understand," he gulped. "It will be just a minute."

 _Huh? What is he..._ "Wh-whoa!" Faster than she'd expected, Ahnnie grabbed hold of Cole's upcoming wrist just as he was about to raise it to her face. "You didn't let me finish...feeling," she spluttered. "I was going to say - and feel, I suppose - that I'm sorry if you know about me being torn between keeping or booting you. I don't want you to feel unwanted; at the same time, I don't want to make a mistake...but from what I've seen, you're not frightening at all. I don't see the harm in having you around."

His widened eyes looked almost frightened beneath his shaggy bangs. "You don't?"

"I don't," she repeated, smiling. "I mean, no one knows what you exactly are, and there's probably more to all this than strictly demon-spirit classifications. I know it's going to be a real pain in the ass convincing Vivienne and Cassandra," she sighed. "But I'll think of something, I guess."

Cole still didn't seem to wholly believe the positive turn of events, but at the very least he appeared to have made a more optimistic rebound. "And I'll see if I can find some way to help," he added, voice hopeful.

"Then we have a deal." Ahnnie let go of his wrist and held out her hand. When he grew confused, she gestured for him to hold it. She clasped his clammy palm a moment later and they shook hands on it like two businesspeople; Maiden barked at the pair as they did so and attacked Cole's shoe, causing Ahnnie to laugh.

The urge to solidify the promise had been spontaneous, but the intent was not - and Maker willing, this would be the only tough decision she'd have to make in her new career.


	6. Sit in Judgment

A buzz of activity swarmed throughout Skyhold for the first time in what was probably decades, if not centuries. Optimism ran high, and on this particular day, it coursed along with a renewed sense of duty.

"Just think of it, Rob," said Evelyn as they walked into the main hall. "I could do so much more here than at Ostwick. Since the Circle's disbanded, I would now have a purpose; a mission. My presence at Skyhold would also be equivalent to Trevelyan support-"

"Support that Father is not yet ready to give," Robert interrupted.

The two siblings stopped in the middle of the hall, right in between the wooden scaffolding erected on either side. Builders hammered at the stones above them, the clink of their tools as they chipped away or slid in new stones echoing through the spacious hall like a pebbly percussion.

"Hasn't the Inquisition proved itself enough?" Evelyn challenged after a while. "Their presence at the Chantry's capital aside, they've sealed the Breach within a year. What more could Father want? What are we even here for?"

"Do not mistake a show of generosity for a declaration of support," Robert shot back. "The sealing of the Breach, undoubtedly, goes in their favor. But the fact still remains that they are not an organization any Maker-fearing Bann would cast his lot with."

Evelyn frowned and tilted her head in inquiry. "How might that be?"

"They've given their leadership to the 'Herald', a mere girl." He marked the title with an unmistakably appalled emphasis; Andrastian outrage truly died hard. "Unless her strings are kept close, there's no telling what direction she'll take them under. And since she'll have strings anyway, it remains to be seen whose interests she will serve."

"Ahnnie is not that sort of a person," she protested. "She may be inexperienced, but she's no fool or puppet."

"She may share your taste in books, but she's no more qualified for this position any more than the next commoner," Robert replied coolly.

The jab of offense prickled Evelyn most uncomfortably. "Are you implying that I'm backing her simply because I like her?"

"It would seem so."

Heat welled in the young Lady's cheeks. "Then I'll have you know that you couldn't be farther from the truth," Evelyn retorted. "She has potential, Rob - just because she wasn't born into it, or had the chance to learn it, doesn't mean she hasn't the makings of a good leader. True, she will need guidance. But she's a hero of the people, and not only that, she's willing, compassionate, humble; how many leaders can have the same said of them?"

Lord Robert's ice blue eyes flashed with irritation in the musty torchlight. "Challenge me with this in a year's time, when the effects of her leadership will be plain for all to see...though I suspect they will become evident much sooner. If you wish to stay here in the meantime, then you may do so. Just don't go flaunting the Trevelyan name about like a free banner." He turned on his heel and swiveled his affronted back to Evelyn as he prepared to stride back down the hall. "When you have had your fill of this folly, you will be required back at Ostwick."

His footsteps echoed in her consciousness long after they had faded away, as if to stomp on every hope she had cultivated since their arrival at Skyhold. _He's lucky he made no mention of Maxwell,_ she seethed. _If he had dared to, just_ one _stray remark..._ yet she knew that Robert was not so cruel - especially not when Maxwell's funeral still burned fresh in their memories.

It was something she never would have consented to, but supposed it couldn't be helped. Maxwell disappeared without a trace at the Conclave; if not for the vision at the Breach, he would have been given up for dead along with the other attendees. Their family had waited too long for any sign of the contrary and made arrangements with the Ostwick Chantry shortly before the departure to Skyhold. It was a miserable day, as Evelyn remembered: the sun shining bright, without a care for the somber mood; the pretentious well-wishers, dolled up in elegance and crocodile tears; and then the monotonous hymns, followed by the burning of a faux pyre in lieu of cremation to symbolize his soul's ascent to the Maker's side.

 _The only warm soul in this den of cold,_ Evelyn remembered thinking. There existed one other person of whom she could say the same, and that was their mother, the late Bann Joanna, whose vibrancy passed onto Max the night of his birth. The Trevelyan household never seemed able to reclaim such sunlight ever since.

Evelyn straightened up at the thought and hardened the resolve in her eyes. This was precisely why she was here, in an old snowy fortress miles away from home. For though she stood in mourning at her baby brother's funeral, she believed wholeheartedly that he wasn't dead and would never stop believing until faced with actual evidence. Let Robert think what he wanted to; she would see this to the end, she would _bring_ Max back, no matter how long it was going to take or who she would have to stand beside.

Thus determined, she caught sight of the Inquisition Commander standing sentinel near the dais, his great back facing her with its mantle of furs; deciding upon that destination, she shoved the residue of Robert's unpleasantness aside and marched over to the man.

"Pardon me," she excused as she drew herself up within hearing distance.

Commander Cullen turned his head and noticed her in surprise, as if seeing her for the first time. "Lady Trevelyan," he then greeted her with a nod. "I apologize; I did not notice you there."

"No need to apologize," she assured. "I've interrupted _you_ , after all." She peered over his arm and saw people arranging torches and a pair of braziers about the dais, in the middle of which sat a dark red throne. "Looks like it's all coming together nicely," she remarked.

Cullen cracked a smile. "Lady Josephine's been rearranging this over the last half hour. She hasn't gotten to the tapestries yet, but once she does...Maker spare us all."

"Truly," Evelyn mused. Turning her head, she spotted the Antivan woman standing a little ways to the side, tutting at a brazier misplaced by a centimeter or two. Then the tapestries were delivered, heaped in a little handcart just waiting to be brought out and hung..."I think I'll take the tapestries. My taste shouldn't be so far off from Lady Josehpine's."

"Indeed?" Cullen raised an eyebrow. "That is kind of you, I suppose, but unnecessary. I'm sure Lady Josephine can handle it."

Evelyn knitted her brows together in concern. "But how could I leave a fellow colleague to do all this work alone?" she asked.

It took a moment before the implication sunk in, as was shown by Cullen's puzzled expression. "You wish to be part of the Inquisition, Lady Trevelyan?"

"You mean 'Lady Evelyn'," she corrected with a smile. "And yes, I do."

He frowned. "You are not leaving in the next week with your retinue?"

"No." Her tone was flat and brewing with displeasure at the very thought. "Robert will be going home alone. I know it is quite sudden, but I had planned this for a long time now. There may be some initial complaints, but they'll blow over quickly, I assure you." _Especially after Father sees the usefulness in having some eyes and ears in the Inquisition. Maker-fearing Bann, my ass._

The Commander's confusion turned to curiosity, tinged with intrigue. "I highly doubt you're signing on for the position of interior decorator," he remarked. "What is it that you can bring to the Inquisition besides your noble name?"

Evelyn crossed her arms and heaved a plaintive sigh. "Believe it or not, I'm not seeking to use my noble name to secure a position here. I simply want to contribute to the cause in any way I can. You could ask the Ostwick Circle - or, well...what's left of it - for my credentials. I was just promoted from Mage to Enchanter before the Circle disbanded, and I specialize as a spirit medium; thus, I could aid in any magical research pertaining to the Fade and its denizens."

"What fraternity were you part of?"

 _Asking the important questions, aren't we?_ "Aequitarian," was the answer.

"Ah, yes, Aequitarian," Cullen murmured, nodding. "One of the more reasonable sort." Evelyn cocked an eyebrow at this, but made no comment. Returning to his regular volume, Cullen resumed, "I suggest you speak with Lady Josephine or Madame Vivienne further on the matter. I don't mean to be rude, but I'm hardly the man to assist you in such affairs."

And yet he had probed into her intentions. Curiously enough, he made no mention of Grand Enchanter Fiona. "Very well," she conceded. "I do suppose I had been rather hasty. Thank you for your patience; it has been a pleasant talk, besides."

"For me as well," he nodded. "Is there anything else I can help you with?"

She pursed her lips in thought. "Not that I can think of at the moment...once I do, I'll be sure to ask." Then it occurred to her. "But wait; I don't think you're here for interior decorating, either. What, if I may ask, is the special occasion?"

A wry smile played across his sturdy jaw at her question. "You've a sharp eye, Lady Evelyn, I'll give you that. I'm here to supervise the arrival of a prisoner; the dais, as you can see, is being readied for Skyhold's first judgment."

* * *

 

Ahnnie paused in her writing and turned back to the history book laid out beside her new journal. She flipped back to the page on the First Blight and wrote up the notes on the five Blights accordingly:

 Knowing this, she tried to piece together a pattern, or patterns; just anything that could help her understand Corypheus better. According to his monologue, he had breached the Fade and claimed to have seen the throne of the gods. _He never specified whether it was a Black or Golden City..._ and he also claimed to have been confused for a millennia... _could he be part of the original magisters who corrupted the Golden City?_ Was that even possible? Whatever the case, he was certainly aware of the Imperium's decline throughout the ages.

And then there was the fact that the pantheon possessed seven Old Gods, not just five - _Razikale and Lusacan are left -_ so which one was this dragon? Was Thedas doomed to experience all the Gods' arrivals? But as Josephine said, no darkspawn had been sighted, and curiously enough Corypheus' force consisted of Red Templars. Also curious was that darkspawn were not considered to possess any sapience...until recently.

The information Ahnnie gleaned on the Fifth Blight came separately from a set of two volumes collectively titled _A Study of the Fifth_ _Blight,_ as it was not only the most recent but also the most disputed Blight due to its short duration. The darkspawn that awakened Urthemiel, the Architect, was noted to have possessed sentience and intelligence. It was able to create Disciples, awakened hurlocks capable of speech and free will...

_The Architect sounds similar to Corypheus. But why is Corypheus so different this time? No darkspawn or taint, just..._

"Inquisitor!" The sudden call caused Ahnnie to drop the quill in her hand. "Oh!" Josephine gasped, revealing her ruffled frame standing before the desk. "I apologize for interrupting you, but you were not responding."

"Josephine," Ahnnie chuckled, and grabbed a rag to wipe the ink blotted onto her desk's surface. She cleaned off her fingers as well for good measure. "Gee, I didn't know you came in...guess I was just really occupied...so, um, it's time?"

"Indeed," the ambassador nodded. "Come; everyone is awaiting you."

Ahnnie settled the quill onto the rag and closed the inkwell before rising from her chair. Then she followed Josephine out of her quarters for the special occasion awaiting in the main hall, mind dancing from Corypheus' origins to the ambassador's puzzling announcement earlier that morning. _Can't be for my birthday. I never told anyone about it, plus June...er, Justinian, is still a month away..._

Her destination was the dais, conveniently accessible right upon exiting the door. But rather than the pristine bareness she'd seen before, it was bedecked now with a fancy armchair flanked by a pair of intricate braziers. A series of tapestries adorned the immediate area of the hall around the dais, colorful yet stern in their lines - but it was the chair that arrested Ahnnie's attention. Upholstered in dark red, its back fanned out in a seashell shape with imposing metal spikes jutting from each joint along the ridge; embroidered in dark gold at the head was the sword-pierced Inquisition symbol.

"Impressive, is it not?" Josephine asked her. "Fit for a leader, meant to show influence...and the burden of it."

Ahnnie blinked. "Well," was all she could say. If she weren't mistaken from the dais and the way the hall was arranged, the armchair looked almost like a throne.

"It is where the Inquisition will sit in judgment," the ambassador went on. "Where _you_ will sit in judgment."

"Ah, I see - wait, _what_?" She whipped her head confusedly towards Josephine. "Judge...judge who?"

Josephine's reply was matter-of-factly, as if Ahnnie should have known this by now. "Those who have done wrong, of course; provided that they survived being brought to Skyhold. You will know of them, at the very least," she added in assurance.

Ahnnie realized her mouth had been gaping and closed it. "I'm...sorry," she faltered a moment later, "but...I think I'm suffering from some role ambiguity...being Inquisitor means judging people too?"

"You are a beacon of law, Inquisitor, as others retreat from responsibility," the ambassador explained. "The Inquisition's sovereignty is derived from the allies who validate it; you are both empowered and bound to mete out judgment." Seeing her horrified expression, Josephine attempted a coaxing smile and assured her that, "This needn't be bloody. Justice has many tools, and if the application is clever, execution may even seem merciful by comparison."

 _Spanish Inquisition, Ahnnie,_ she reminded herself. _They did pretty much the same thing._ Indeed, how could she forget? But luckily for her, this Inquisition worked for a different purpose than the other one. "All right, then," she sighed. "If this is what I have to do."

"It will begin in a few minutes. Do not worry; I will be right beside you in the first few judgments. If you require assistance, simply lean over and whisper to me with a serious expression." Josephine then took up position on the dais' right, a little ways below the throne. "I will be right up there with you soon," she assured a hesitant Ahnnie when the girl still didn't budge. "I must stand here to announce the prisoner first."

"Oh...right. Sorry." With that in mind, Ahnnie mounted the steps of the dais, a dubious eye on the spiny Inquisition throne as she moved close. With a careful hand, she traced the length of an armrest...then, in an equally careful motion, she pivoted on a heel and lowered herself into the dark red chair. _F_ _eels comfy, I guess,_ she thought as her bottom sank down. She next placed a hand on either armrest to adopt the stance of power she'd so often seen in movies and books, before straightening her back and neck to keep her head level. It was then her eyes scanned the hall from her perch and noticed, for the first time, the people gathered about.

Builders paused on the scaffolding to watch the proceedings below; curious civilians fringed the hall entrance; soldiers guarded the doors; recruits, castle staff, Chargers, mages...

_Mages._

Ahnnie was no good at counting large numbers of people, but it seemed to her as if every mage in the Inquisition had packed themselves into the main hall. For every one person of another occupation, there seemed to be at least three to four mages. She could even pick out Fiona's small frame next to Vivienne's, standing at the front of the crowd on the hall's right; and then she had a sinking feeling she knew why they were here when she spotted Dorian gazing intensely at her from the head of the hall's left.

A sweeping hush flew over everyone as a pair of guards led the prisoner in. He was haggard and worn, garbed in the most basic of Ferelden clothes for the occasion; basic but going threadbare, upholding just the minimum standard of acceptability. Yet even if he'd worn a full-blown Orlesian costume, Ahnnie believed she would recognize him anywhere.

"You recall Gereon Alexius of Tevinter," Josephine's voice rang out. "Ferelden has given his judgment to us as acknowledgement of our aid. The formal charges are apostasy, attempted enslavement, and attempted assasination." With every word, she mounted farther up the dais until she was, at last, facing Ahnnie within speaking distance of the throne. "Tevinter has disowned and stripped him of his rank. You may judge the former Magister as you see fit." She then shifted her profile by a quarter to regain sight of the crowd, lightly placing herself within reach of Ahnnie as she did so.

The guards pushed Alexius forward and he stumbled, chains clinking, closer to the dais. A light chuckle here and there from the spectators peppered the silence, but if it bothered Alexius, he neither showed nor cared. He simply stood with his head bowed, careworn face hidden from view.

"I-I..." Ahnnie gasped. She did not realize any sound had escaped her throat until she caught Josephine giving her a pointed look. " _Ahem._ I mean, yes, I saw all of this for myself," she corrected. "You have much to answer for...Gereon Alexius."

When Alexius finally spoke, it was in the most gravelly rasp Ahnnie had ever heard. "I couldn't save my son," he retorted. "Do you think my fate matters to me?"

"Well...your son is not yet dead, and there might be a cure," she pointed out. "That could be something for you."

"You know nothing of the Blight sickness," he hissed, "which goes to show just how ignorant you are. Once a person has contracted it, they are as good as dead."

 _But Felix cares,_ she wanted to say, despite the smarting insult. _Your fate would definitely matter to him, even if he's resigned to the fact that you're in chains -_ but was that sort of personal language even allowed in a judgment? She didn't think so, and her indecisiveness kept her mouth shut.

Alexius spoke no further anyway and made no attempt to answer the charges. "Will you offer nothing more in your defense?" Josephine asked after a while.

The former magister let out a derisive chuckle, accompanied by an amused head shake. "You've won _nothing_ ," he spat. "The people you've saved, the acclaim you've gathered - you'll lose it all in the storm to come." His hooded gaze traveled each side of the hall as he made his point, before stopping at Ahnnie with something of a challenge in the stony depths. "Nothing you do will change that. Render your judgment now, _Inquisitor_ , while you still can."

As if on cue, Ahnnie felt most if not all eyes turning expectantly to her, and at the same time, the creeping heat of stage fright working its way up into her face. Time ticked by with an agonizing urgency, distorting seconds into eternities and vice versa. She hardened her features into as stoic a mask as possible and leaned, ever so slightly, in Josephine's direction. "So...what should I say?" she whispered.

Josephine tilted her head close, but not too close. "There has been no predetermined judgment this time, as you are now responsible for making them yourself," she whispered back. "But you do have options. Take the crime and the criminal into consideration; execution and life imprisonment, for example, are common sentences to heavy crimes and he would most certainly be eligible for either. And then since he is a mage, there is the option of making him Tranquil, but-"

"Making him tranquil?" Ahnnie murmured, wondering what that meant. Either way, it sounded more merciful than execution or imprisonment. "That doesn't sound bad."

"It...does have its benefits," Josephine nodded slowly. "He will be able to keep his life and live more or less in freedom without fear of danger from his magic."

"Really?"

"Really. Once he is made Tranquil, he will become perfectly harmless. If that is what you think he should undergo..."

 _All right then. Let's do this._ Ahnnie cleared her throat to signal the end of her little conference and moved her head back into position, eyes locked on the expectant prisoner before her. "I have decided, after much consideration," she slowly began, and she could see the suspense mounting in Dorian's posture from the corner of her eye, "that in light of these charges, you, Gereon Alexius, are to be made tranquil."

A wave of shocked murmurs erupted throughout the hall, confusing Ahnnie. The majority of the mages that she could see suddenly recoiled in horror and outrage, and Dorian's olive face reddened in indignation. Only Vivienne seemed pleased, which Ahnnie supposed was a good sign that the Madame had put their argument about Cole past her...

_But then why is everyone else so angry?_

"Tranquility?" Alexius practically choked. "So be it. Death would be preferable."

His guards began to close in around him as he spoke the last few words. Before they could reach him, however, Ahnnie shouted for everyone to wait. Chest thudding, she turned in a fluster towards Josephine again. "Why is everyone so upset?" she quickly asked.

Josephine knitted her brows together in consternation. "Well, Inquisitor, to render a mage Tranquil is to cut off their connection to the Fade. This takes away from them the ability to dream or perform magic...it also makes them incapable of feeling emotions. Basically, they become more placid versions of their former selves. I had thought you were aware..."

Ahnnie's jaw dropped in shock. _WHAT!? I thought it was some form of rehab! Oh my god, I have to fix this, quick!_ Turning back to the hall, she stuttered to the bewildered masses, "I-I apologize! I made that decision without knowing the, uh, true nature of Tranquility. I take it back. Instead, Gereon Alexius, you are to..." She then paused, realizing that she hadn't yet thought of an alternative. _C_ _rap, me and my big mouth..._ her eyes flitted from Alexius to a confused Dorian and the two baffled Enchanters in a quest to find inspiration, and upon seeing Fiona, it quickly came to her. "You are to help the mages at Redcliffe like you originally promised. Any...anything you know, or own, shall be put forth to the mages' benefit, and from here on out, you shall answer to Grand Enchanter Fiona and Madame Vivienne."

"Is this judgment final, Inquisitor?" Josephine asked aloud, to be sure.

Ahnnie sank back into her chair with a nervous sigh disguised as a breath of finality. "It is," she affirmed a moment later, and clenched the throne's armrests to keep her fingers from shaking.

"Very well. Case dismissed." The ambassador then motioned for the guards to carry Alexius away, and Ahnnie let out a mental sigh of relief as she watched his hunched form recede down the hall; if the former magister had any thoughts as to his new fate, he did not voice them. Then again, he shot her a scathing look over his shoulder as he passed through the middle of the hall.

 _I don't blame him,_ she thought. _That was...that was bad. The worst, even. Maker, I feel so embarrassed._

"That will be all for today," Josephine announced, shaking her from those thoughts a moment later. "Her Worship has spoken; court is adjourned.

Ahnnie would have been glad for that announcement, had she not been prickled by yet another new epithet. "What did you just call me?" she asked Josephine in disbelief.

The ambassador turned towards her confusedly. "'Her Worship'?" she asked, frowning.

Color rose into Ahnnie's cheeks at the very word. "Please don't. Just 'Inquisitor' is fine. 'Lady Phạm' even, or Herald like...like you did before; just anything but... _Worship_."

Josephine stood frozen in puzzlement, probably wondering what sort of complication it was this time around. "You misunderstand," she said at last. "It is not 'Worship' as in godly reverence, but is derived from the old Ferelden term 'Your Wor _th_ ship'. Many positions of law are addressed by the style-"

"No. I refuse it." With a tightened jaw, Ahnnie took a deep breath and rubbed her face wearily. After a while, she said, "If it's possible for me to make rules around here - is it possible? - then _not_ calling me 'Worship' is going to be one of them. Please note that down."

"But-"

" _Please,_ Josephine."

"...as you wish." Josephine turned back to the hall and re-addressed everyone within it: "The _Inquisitor_ has spoken. Court is adjourned."

* * *

 

Dorian later found her sitting alone on a bench in what was steadily being pruned into Skyhold's garden. "Oh, Your Worship," he chirped merrily before sliding into place beside her. "That was quite the scare you gave us all! Did you _really_ not know what Tranquility was? Great Maker, and I was just about furious with you! I-"

"Dorian," she whispered, and when she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes. "Not now."

The Tevinter mage ceased upon seeing her distress, and then nodded, mirth fading. "It was a rough start to being Inquisitor, I'll admit. I meant no harm, of course. Just...excuse me, but you don't know how relieved I am that Alexius didn't get sentenced to Tranquility. Or anything overly harsh, for that matter. Of course, Madame de Fer was not so pleased at first with the lenient change," he snorted, "but she seemed placated enough being able to take charge of our dear old time mage, even if alongside the former Grand Enchanter. I hear Fiona's mages are already cooking up interesting ways with which he can serve them."

"Yeah," Ahnnie sniffed. "I guess that's...good..." She for one was just relieved that Knight-Captain Denam would not be next; for the first time ever, she was actually quite glad someone didn't survive the journey to Skyhold. Beyond that, there were no more important prisoners for her to judge...for now. _At least we'll have a private council from now on before I actually do any judging,_ she thought, glad for Josephine's sympathy. _That was just awful!_

"Serving the mages he'd sought to make serve him," Dorian murmured after a while. "There's some justice in that, after what he did to them. Maybe one day he'll realize it." He sighed, then turned back to the despondent girl and gave her an unexpected clap to the back. "Come, now! I didn't go looking for you to make you all weepy. It's over; done; _fini -_ learn from this mistake and make a better decision the next time around."

"I-I know." She sniffed again. "It was just...I mean, so many people watching, and..."

"Pray, don't be so hard on yourself, _Your Worship_."

Ahnnie immediately glared at him. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Dorian couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, it...all right, I admit it, yes...but, you know, it's rather awkward, you'd have to admit, for people so used to calling magistrates and justices 'Your Worship' as is custom, and then suddenly being scolded for it." He raised a pointed eyebrow. "Are you not afraid of people saying you're ignorant of its actual meaning?"

She ran a hand through her hair and shook her head angrily. "If it was actually meant as 'Worthship', then why didn't they just stick to that, for Christ's sake? Anyway...no. They can think whatever they want to think, I..." She trailed off, at war once again with unpleasant feelings.

"You...?"

Ahnnie sighed in exasperation. "Stop teasing me, Dorian, I'm miserable enough as it is."

He held up his hands in surrender. "Easy now. I just wanted to help, is all. If you don't want to say it, then you don't have to..."

The injury in his tone made her pause a little, but when she looked at his face, he appeared anything but hurt. _Cheeky bastard._ "Fine," she blurted out a moment later. "It's because...my mom was a bitch. There. You happy now?"

Dorian rubbed his chin in thought. "I'm sorry, but I fail to see how having canine lineage correlates with an aversion to being called 'Your Worship'."

"Dorian!" Goodness, this guy. "You know what I mean..."

He laughed once more at her expense before shrugging resolutely. "Point taken; I won't probe further. You have my word..." He then heaved himself off the bench and stretched his arms. "Good Maker, where has the time gone?" he breathed through a satisfactory sigh. As he swung his arms back into place, he added, "I really got sidetracked, now didn't I? Solas sent me - he wanted to have a word with you in the rotunda."

Ahnnie perked up at that. "He does?"

"He does," Dorian repeated. "Do you know the way? It's on the right of the hall, beneath the atrium. First door from the hall entrance; you can't miss it."

She nodded eagerly as she, too, rose from the bench. "Sounds easy enough. And thanks, by the way." She shrugged. "I guess I do feel better, even if you made fun of me."

"That's the spirit," he smiled. "Now wipe that nose clean and go see what he wants! Can't have the Inquisitor a slobbering mess, now can we?"

Ahnnie's mouth tugged into a smile, which she fought from turning into a chuckle by biting on her lip. "Right," she giggled anyway with a sniff. "I'll go do that. See you."

She took some time as she cut across the garden and back into the main hall to let her nose clear up. Using a handkerchief grossed her out and she avoided doing so whenever she could. She was more or less breathing normally through her nostrils again when she finally reached the aforementioned door, squeezing herself into a neat little corridor before being deposited in the middle of a spacious, circular room open to the expansive atrium above.

A desk of plans sat in the center, and slid to one side was a couch. Wooden planks were stacked on the opposite side, accompanied by scattered pieces of old furniture draped by dusty sheets. She found the lighting cozy, especially at a spot where a lantern of bluish light hung from the beams of a wooden scaffold. And it was here that she noticed the giant fresco looming over her.

Painted in dusky oranges, pale yellows, and grayish browns, it was conceived with straight, pleasing lines that angled from bottom and top in an overall diamond shape. The artist attempted to convey an upside-down triangle at the bottom using slanting lines on either side to depict what looked like mountain slopes, and then a reflection of the angles from above with beaming rays of light spreading outwards at the land below, crowned by a halo of light surrounding an angry greenish center. But it was not yet finished, as she could see from the painter on the scaffold still adding details.

"This is amazing, hahren," she called up to him, beaming. "What is it?"

Solas turned around upon hearing her voice and put down his bowl of paint with a smile. "A depiction of the Inquisition's story, starting with the explosion of the Conclave," he explained. "Wait there," he cautioned when she made to join him, "I'll come down; the paint's still wet."

They came together at the desk once he was down, where Solas showed her the measurements and outlines of the frescos he planned to paint on the ever-curving wall. "I plan on drawing a section of your departure from your world. Would you mind drawing me a scene of Earth for reference?"

"I wouldn't mind," she assured him, already thinking of what sort of scenery she would use. _The shape of my house might still seem normal to Thedosians, so I guess I'll do a little fibbing and make an urban cityscape. Maybe something like that combined with a backyard._ "Do you need it right now?"

"Not necessarily. Whenever you have the time, da'len."

"All right."

She watched him shuffle through the papers for a while, listening happily as he chattered on about the art he would adorn the rotunda with. Finally, however, he came to the point he wanted to make. With a sip of the lukewarm tea on his desk, Solas cleared his throat and looked her straight in the eye. "I believe, da'len, that now is the time when we can start concentrating on your magic again."

Ahnnie nodded. "Of course," she replied eagerly. "I've started up lessons with Hargrave again. It's only fair."

He graced her with a smile. "Good. Would you like to start now, or would you prefer to postpone to a later time?"

"I thought you said now was the ti..." Then she remembered the debacle in the main hall. "Oh. Uh, I think I would like to start now. I want to put that mess as far behind me as possible."

"Very well, then." He busied himself with the papers again, but only to put them in order this time. "Any questions before we begin?"

"Uh..." She frowned as she tried to think of any, and then remembered one she'd been wondering about for a while now. "Well, about my becoming Inquisitor...why did you tell Cassandra I made a sacrifice when I didn't?"

Solas raised an eyebrow at her while his hands worked. "Are you saying that you didn't?"

She pursed her lips. "Um, yeah."

A curious look overtook his face, and Ahnnie couldn't help but add that to her list of oddities surrounding Solas. It sank a moment later beneath a well-timed smile, both reassuring and kind. "Tell me, then, what you said back in Haven two days before sealing the Breach."

"That doesn't count," she protested. "I couldn't have gone back anyway, and there was no other choice..."

"But isn't that it? You understood there was no choice." Solas straightened up and dusted off his hands, finally done. "It was seal the Breach, or leave Thedas to fall to the demons...now imagine if you had a way back. Knowing all that depended on you, would you have gone? Would you have left us - the friends you had made - to a future of doom beneath the Elder One?" When she made a tortured face and no reply, he smiled yet again. "The sacrifice was as good as made, da'len. Believe you me."

"But then why..."

"Now I will not lie; there was something of a personal agenda in promoting you to Cassandra," Solas confessed. "You are precisely what I believe will be a refreshing change to Thedas. Even if not completely, then in partial amounts - baby steps, as I have told you. This world needs more ideals that are less...archaic in nature, if you will."

 _Is it my dislike of racism?_ she wondered, but decided not to drag the matter any further. It rubbed her the wrong way hearing all these justifications, as if they were just being fished from the air to cover her ass; not only that, but they served as further salt on today's wound. Clearing her throat of its sudden prickliness, she changed the subject by asking, "So what will we do today for magic practice, hahren? Meditation? Mana focus?"

Solas tapped his fingers together as a playful and knowing smile made its way across his face. "Let's go watch a movie."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Had to go back and fix Ahnnie and Harding's exchange about funeral rites in Chapter 13 of Part 2 after learning that Andrastian rites involve cremation rather than burial. I haven't seen anything that strikes burial off the list, but it is noted that cremation is symbolic of Andraste's burning & may be a preventive measure against demons possessing corpses. Also, "Bann" is synonymous for both male and female nobles, and I got "Worthship" from researching the style's etymology.
> 
> And then about relationship tags...I didn't want to confuse anyone searching for stories specifically on their desired ship, so I've elected to use 'Secondary Pairings' to encompass such pairings instead. I'm still new to Ao3's tag system so I apologize if I'm doing anything wrong, and would totally appreciate someone pointing me in the right direction.


	7. Best of Both Worlds

" _Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,_

_Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring;_

_Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun,_

_Now the jingle hop has begun..._ "

Bobby Helms' lively rendition simply radiated Christmas spirit with each note. Its festive beat jingled in every corner of the mall, bouncing merrily through the spacious corridors fringed with evergreen garlands and wreaths, golden bells and holly berries, ornaments and Santa imagery–

" _Jingle_ _bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock,_

_Jingle bells chime in jingle bell time;_

_Dancin' and prancin' in Jingle Bell Square,_

_In the frosty air!_ "

Georgia could hardly be considered a snowy state, but it did have its moments. The great blizzard of '14, for example, or the sudden snowfalls that peppered '10 and '11. Even so, winter made the air nippy, and Ahnnie felt it appropriate to wear a warm sweater though she and Solas had not yet stepped outside the Mall of Georgia. So she listened to his instructions and simply imagined–

"Wow," Ahnnie breathed as she held out her arms before her, now clothed in a soft knit wool of dark green. "This...this is amazing!" She looked down at the little reindeer embroidered over her torso and marveled at the precise lines of thread, perpetually criss-crossing. "It's all so... _real_!" Then she looked down at her trousers and boots, willing them to become patterned leggings and moccasins, and let out an uncharacteristically loud squeal of delight as they transformed. "Oh! Sorry," she apologized with a hand over her mouth. "I just...I just really love Christmas."

Solas smiled down upon her as he came forward and placed a hand on her shoulder. "This is simply the beginning, da'len. The Fade holds countless possibilities."

She couldn't help but giggle. "You must have had a lot of fun at the mall," she teased. "All those times, without me..."

He acknowledged the remark with a sly smile and drifted past her to pause a few steps away, voice thoughtful. "It seems I am unfamiliar with this section. I don't suppose you know the way to the Regal cinema from here?"

Ahnnie's grin widened. "Of course," she smirked, and straightened up to take the lead. "Let's see, Macy's is over there," she gestured to their left. "Soooo...we just keep going straight until we come up to Old Navy. Come on, let's go!"

" _Giddy-up, jingle horse_

_Pick up your feet,_

_Jingle around the clock;_

_Mix and a-mingle in the jingling feet..._ "

She practically dragged him by the wrist as they weaved through the Christmas crowd, flitting past shop after brightly lit shop as Helm's tinny voice sang along to plucky electric accompaniments. They soon came up to JCPenney, just on the corner of Flair Boutique past GameStop. Old Navy was approximately four shops away, but as they reached the third shop, an idea suddenly came into her head and Ahnnie slowed to a stop in front of Abercrombie & Fitch.

Solas tilted his head in inquiry. "What is the matter?" he asked.

She beamed an eager smile at him from over her shoulder. "When in Rome!" she chirped in reply, and gestured for him to follow her inside the shop's dark interior. "Come on, you need to fit in more," she insisted when he seemed hesitant. "And what better way than with a little bit of shopping?"

The question marked their plunge into the shadowy, perfumed depths, the subdued lighting and electro music engulfing their senses in a seamless transition. Shapely torsos displayed their wares in tasteful combinations, flanked by shelves and tables and racks on which the garments lay folded or hung, beckoning for the searching touch of a human hand. Black-and-white models brooded suggestively at the pair from beyond their picture frames, lending to the atmosphere a certain sensuousness that seemed oddly fitting for Solas.

"I know _just_ the look for you," she assured him once they were well inside. "Just stay right there, and I'll be back in a second."

She returned with her catch in record time, having found everything she needed within convenient reach and quantity. Pushing Solas into a dressing room, she patiently waited while he changed and was simply ecstatic to find everything a perfect fit when he reemerged. Without much thought to regular shopping procedures, Ahnnie zipped to the checkout counter to pay for the items while he still wore them. An amused elf in a a black pea coat, taupe sweater, and dark jeans accompanied her, his neck swathed in a smoky frayed-end scarf.

The final amount was beyond anything Ahnnie ever imagined spending on an outing by herself, but she whipped a debit card out of thin air and presented it smugly to the preppy cashier at the register. "No need for a receipt," she declined, and strolled back out into the holiday cheer with Solas beside her.

"You can do _anything_ in the Fade," she gushed as they walked by Old Navy's expansive storefront and began a slight right turn into the food court. "If only I knew, when I was first stuck in it..."

"A Fade entered through dream is still a different Fade than the one you experienced," he reminded her. "It is far easier to shape it when dreaming than when physically inside it."

 _True..._ "But this isn't just a dream, is it, hahren? I've never dreamed anything so..." She took a deep sniff of the cinnamon-tinted air. "...vividly before."

He looked from her wistful expression to the source of the good smells. "Cinnabon does happen to be my favorite part of this mall," he confessed, and veered her past the Godiva Chocolatier they'd been walking alongside to the cozy, teal-themed cinnamon bun shop where the smell emanated from. "Two classic rolls," he ordered the moment they arrived at the counter, the first ones in line, too, and received both rolls in his hands, still warm and toasty from the oven. With his mouth already nibbling away at his roll, he handed the second one to her.

Ahnnie grasped the sheet of pastry parchment beneath her roll as sturdily as possible and sank her teeth into its ooey, gooey goodness. Such a rush of fragrant cinnamon and sweet, sweet glaze flooded her mouth that she almost choked as she greedily bit into more. She was halfway through when they reached the merry-go-round at the center of the food court and still working on it as they mounted the escalator nearby; by the time they crested the second floor, her roll was simply a strip of soft cinnamon pastry, which she savored by chewing slowly. As they stepped off, her hands were free to crumple the crumb-sticky parchment and throw it into a trashcan.

 _Score!_ she couldn't help but think as the parchment ball dropped into the black-bagged abyss. _I never thought I'd say this, but boy do I miss throwing away trash_ _..._ it satisfied her almost as much as the decadent cinnamon roll did.

But now an even greater amusement awaited her, for the cinema advertised itself with a red neon sign glowing enticingly to their left. Drawn like moths to a light, they strode for the ticket office beneath the sign, a screen of the available movies and showtimes flashing overhead while framed and lighted posters promoted the possible selections on the wall to their right.

"So, which movie do you want to see?" Ahnnie asked as they entered the line behind two other couples.

"What movie do _you_ want to see, da'len?" Solas asked her back. "Show me your taste."

"Um..." Ahnnie pursed her lips and looked at the posters. Some were filled, some were blank; amongst those filled were _The Conjuring 2_ , the live action _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_ , _Swiss Army Man,_ _Alice Through the Looking Glass_ ; but she was interested in none of these. "Would you mind if we watched..." Her finger hovered over to a blank poster instead. "...that one?"

The empty whiteness slowly gained color and shape until it formed a theatrical portrait of a curly-haired Martin Freeman dressed in a burgundy overcoat and brandishing a shiny silver blade. _From the director of the Lord of the Rings trilogy,_ read the words above him, and below, in three-dimensional script, _The Hobbit: An Unexpected Journey._

"It's the first in a trilogy about a world kind of like Thedas," she explained, "plus it's not that recent, so if it's not interesting enough..."

"Nonsense. It looks plenty interesting." Solas took a step forward as the line moved up. "Your favorite of the trilogy?" he guessed.

Ahnnie blushed as she moved alongside him. "Yes...I read the book in third grade and all the movies captured its spirit pretty well, but the first one really stands out in my opinion. Not as grave as the _Lord of the Rings_ movies for example, but not all fun and games, either; it's got the perfect balance of each, it's fun to watch, it's adventurous, and it's...it's..." She waved her hand in vague circles as she struggled to find the best adjective. "Heartwarming," she said at last. Then she frowned. "Does that make any sense?"

"It does," he assured her, "but why don't we let the movie speak for itself?"

For it was finally their turn, and as they stepped up to the counter, Ahnnie took it upon herself to buy the admission. "Two tickets for The Hobbit, please. The nearest showing." Which, conveniently again, was now.

But of course, what movie was complete without popcorn? After entering the theater lobby, Ahnnie didn't even need to ask Solas for permission to head for the concession stand. The buttery movie-going treat was a given, and the both of them settled in their seats with a large bucket of the stuff propped between them. All that was left now was to sit back and relax. They had managed to snag a good spot in a center row, the auditorium was sparsely filled, the lights were beginning to darken – it was about as ideal a theater setting as Ahnnie would have wished for.

And then the movie began. Ahnnie settled deeper into her seat and plopped in another piece of popcorn as the whimsical prologue scene commenced with an elderly Bilbo Baggins writing his account of the titular adventure. Eyes glued to the screen, she watched as though seeing for the first time the silly dinner scene in Bag End, the start of the journey across Eriador to the Lonely Mountain, the dangers and shenanigans in between...

And then, after Bilbo and the dwarves reached Rivendell, came her most favorite scene yet. Lady Galadriel, cloaked in sunlight beneath an elegant elven arch, asked Gandalf the Grey why? "Why the halfling?" And his answer, delivered with a touch of the Shire's flute theme:

"I have found it is the small things, everyday deeds of ordinary folk that keeps the darkness at bay. Simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins?" Gandalf asked with a chuckle, the camera panning closer to his wizened face as he spoke. "Perhaps it is because I am afraid, and he gives me courage."

Those words never failed to make Ahnnie smile, and she remembered thinking of this very scene the moment she'd decided just what to name Cixi's second puppy. Well, it was either that or Radagast...but Bilbo was shorter and sounded much cuter, besides.

Then after the fiasco in the Goblin King's halls, after being cornered on a precipice by orcs and then rescued by giant eagles, Bilbo and co. looked forward to a sequel as they sighted the Lonely Mountain in the distance – and the movie ended.

Ahnnie stretched her arms as the credits began rolling and rose after Solas as Neil Finn's _Song of the Lonely Mountain_ played through the first few verses. After throwing away the popcorn bucket, she eagerly came up beside him and asked, "So what did you think? Was it good, or was it...?"

"It was heartwarming," Solas answered much to her delight, and he chuckled. "A rather...adorable adventure – which is not a description I'd think of applying to a company of hairy dwarves. Peter Jackson is a decent director."

"Sorry if there was some stuff you didn't get, though," she apologized. "Lady Galadriel and Saruman weren't supposed to appear in Rivendell, for one...Radagast too for that matter and...hmm...I don't think Frodo was in the prologue of the book, either. I think Peter Jackson intended for _The Hobbit_ movies to act as a prequel to _The Lord of the Rings_ , rather than a standalone."

He dismissed the matter with a nonchalant wave. "I can always catch up later. As always, movies are an interesting look into how Earthen humans think..."

They emerged into the theater lobby and sat down on a bench to talk. "Well, that is true," Ahnnie admitted. "They're expressions of culture as much as art and music." She gave him a curious glance as she remembered their first talk of movies in the Fade. "So let me guess; horror flicks intrigue you the most?"

"For a people who have no Fade, I had to see what they considered an alternative," he said with a smile. "Books here are a spotty source...I cannot read the languages, for one. Some of them appear fuzzed by memory as well. But movies; movies are vivid. They take the effort of forming images from the reader to the director who has arranged all aspects of the story. Where people may forget words printed on paper, the moving pictures they see onscreen become imprinted in their minds as freshly as if witnessing the events for themselves...movies may be considered more entertaining than informational, but there is something to be said of their execution, exaggerated or no. They are more than just performed acts of script – movies are an extraordinary medium of expression, the likes of which I have never seen before."

 _Wow...that's...deep._ She had never considered movies in such a light before. To her, at least before coming to Thedas, they had always seemed just a part of daily life. As always, Solas never failed to awe her with his perspectives. _Wait till he sees a documentary...or even a YouTube video!_ Could she access the Internet in the Fade? _Maybe not...everything here seems to be as I remember it than in the now. I'd probably access an archived page rather than a current one_ – but that was fine, too. Now if only she could conjure up a smartphone...

"And from what I have observed, despite initial appearances, our worlds are not so different from each other after all."

Ahnnie perked up at that. "How so?"

Solas adjusted his scarf before crossing his arms contemplatively over his chest. "Do you remember, for one, the similarity of certain cultures? Religions and beliefs?"

"Well, yeah, we talked about it before."

"And the rise and fall of certain civilizations..."

"I mean, I'm no history expert, but...yeah."

"One side scientifically advanced but magically lacking; the other, magically advanced but scientifically lacking – but that they should share even _languages_ to a startling degree of uniformity...?" He let out a breathy sigh. "It is a curious coincidence; they are similar in many aspects, yet different at the same time. It is almost as if something _links_ the both of them while they run their own courses independent of each other..."

"Huh." Ahnnie blinked. "That sounds a lot like yin yang." When he turned quizzically to her, she explained, "It's a Chinese philosophy that believes in interlocking dualities; like, opposites, sort of. It literally means 'dark-bright'. From what I read, rather than opposing each other, what we think of as contrary forces actually interrelate – they interact dynamically to create a whole greater than the sum of its parts – if that makes any sense."

"Yes, yes it does," Solas nodded as he sat up straighter, intrigued. "Perhaps we are onto something?"

Ahnnie arched an eyebrow. "Like...parallels?"

"That's one way to go about it."

She could see the viability in that. "But it all still seems so vague. It just sounds like we're throwing ideas together with no definite purpose..."

Solas laughed. "That is what philosophers have been doing since the beginning of time, da'len. Don't be quick to discount aimless thinking; you never know what may arise from–"

The sudden clang of a bell vibrated through the air, cutting him off. A tremor passing through the ground shortly afterwards caused Ahnnie to clench the edges of her seat. "Solas?" she asked confusedly, eyes widening with fright. "What's going on?"

The elf beside her was as serene as could be. "A disturbance from the waking world," he explained, "marking the passage of another hour...and the end of our little Fade outing." He rose unflinchingly from the bench despite what felt like an earthquake and held out a hand for her. "We must wake up now, but we shall continue this at a later time."

Ahnnie tried standing from the bench, but fell back on her bum as another bell rang and the tremors increased. She slapped a hand into Solas' palm regardless and felt the reassuring strength of his pull sweeping her off her feet, dragging her through the collapsing ruins of her – _their_ dream, the crowded mall melting away like paint splashed by water from an easel and into a world of abstract color, neither this nor that. In a reverse of their beginning journey, she passed from a state of accentuated awareness back into the lulling realm of unconsciousness that most dreams originated from; the dreams of ordinary, Fade-ignorant folk...the safest part of the Fade, as Solas had called it.

But even that was short-lived. As yet another bell rang, the blissful oblivion crumbled away and Ahnnie slowly opened her eyes to find herself back in the cozily lit rotunda. Rubbing those eyes, she rose her head from the couch and spied the wooden scaffold with its blue lantern glowing comfortingly across from her. Atop its platform, painting as if nothing had happened, was the familiar slim figure of Solas.

Not wishing to disturb his work, she slipped off the couch and began her drowsy way back to her quarters. But before she fully exited the rotunda, she chanced a peep over her shoulder at the fresco, noticing the extra details since painted on it and the sturdy, un-tired face of its artist. He caught her staring and aimed a sidelong smile plus wink her way, which she couldn't help but return through the fog of her languor.

* * *

 

_Meet me at the gates after polearms. We will train outside the fortress today._

Ahnnie smiled down at the little note and tucked it between two pages in her journal, which in turn was tucked away into a drawer. No sense in letting anyone see such a note lying flat on her desk, now was there? She'd thought something was up when a servant brought in a bundle of drawing paper from the rotunda and the tiny strip of paper fluttered out as she unrolled the sheets. Solas helping her with magic was no secret, per se, as it was generally understood that he was willing to help with anything Anchor-related; his methods, however, were still viewed as unconventional, and such help was not widely known as "training".

She managed to get some initial sketching done before the bells signaled her daily lesson with Hargrave. Even when being schooled by the tough corporal, though, her mind seemed to wander. What did Solas have in store for her today? This was the first time in a long time that they had any chance to be alone for as long as the dream escapade; not since the early days in Haven, and especially not with all the traveling they'd done in the month prior to sealing the Breach. The moment she was free, she jogged straight for the gate, not willing to waste any time rushing back and forth from the training grounds to her quarters.

"Solas!" Ahnnie hailed as she spotted the bald elf by the gatehouse; a pack was slung over his shoulder and in his hands, rather than his staff, was a walking stick. She trotted over to him and pointed at the stick. "What's up with that?"

"We're going on a walk, of course," he answered matter-of-factly. "It's such a nice day for a walk. Wouldn't you agree, Inquisitor?"

"Oh...yeah! It's really good weather."

They kept up the small talk until they were finally off the bridge and hiking down a recently cut path. It felt strange being surrounded by nothing more than rocks and trees after weeks of castle life, so for a while Ahnnie was silent as she contemplated the nature around her. Then, looking over at Solas' shadow dappled face, did she remember what she had wanted to ask. "What are we going out here for, if you don't mind?"

"An exercise for you to try," he replied. "Something a little more hands-on."

"'Hands-on'?" she echoed. "Was that a pun?"

He chuckled. "You made it into one. But if you insist..." He paused to part a branch from his face, then said, "You will have noticed the Anchor's other capabilities. When you try tapping into your mana, as you have told me, there is only one place to which it goes. You haven't managed to move it elsewhere, have you? I thought not," he remarked when she shook her head. "And when you use your Anchor independent of the rifts, this gives you trouble in withdrawing mana from the mark. We shall see what we can do to remedy that, among other things."

No wonder they were going in secret, then. If they attempted this practice at Skyhold, people would be sure to notice; they would be frightened by an unprovoked Anchor, especially if she didn't yet have it under her control and it did something unexpected. Tongues would also wag if Solas appeared to have had a hand in it. Just as Ahnnie was in the process of digesting that information, however, Solas suddenly took them off the manmade path and onto a thin deer track through the undergrowth instead. She quickened her pace to catch up with the nimble elf, wondering just how far was far enough for him.

They stopped several minutes later at a rocky little clearing. Solas laid his walking stick and pack against the trunk of a nearby tree, and gestured for Ahnnie to do the same with her glaive. Once that was done, he asked her, "Do you still remember the exercises I taught you?"

"I believe so."

"Good. Start on them and think of putting power into the Anchor."

Ahnnie nodded and closed her eyes. Then she slowed her breathing in an attempt to still her body; faced with no life-threatening exigencies, her mana took its sweet time in answering her summons. She was unable to tell exactly how much time was passing, but it seemed to be quite a bit in her half suspended state. Eventually, it did come; after the little, tingling awakening, she willed the spark to shift into her left palm and was not surprised to feel magic racing through her veins as the Anchor siphoned it greedily.

Ahnnie gasped awake and slapped her other hand over her flaring one's wrist, startled as always by the Anchor's electric ecstasy. "Now what?" she yelled to Solas over the crackling.

"You must cancel it," he yelled back.

"But how? I can't do it on my own!"

He opened his mouth to speak, closed it, and opened it again. "About that; there is actually something to which I must confess."

"What?"

"That time in the Crossroads, in the fight with the archer – I did nothing to calm your mark. It was actually of your own doing."

Either she was going deaf, or the flares were making her hear things. "That's not true! You, you cast spells–"

"Those words I spoke?" he asked. "Nothing more than Elvish endearments. The point is, da'len, it's all in how you _feel_. You may not achieve full control, but you can certainly manage the Anchor's responses to mana. It is like physical pain; the more you worry about it, the more you can feel it, but distract yourself and then the pain becomes tolerable, if not alleviated."

 _That's not the most helpful analogy, here,_ Ahnnie lamented. "So what you're saying is...I should just calm down?"

"Precisely! In fact, this should serve as a good desensitization exercise." Solas folded his hands behind his back and paced about her. "Fear your magic less, and it shall not feel so beyond your grasp. A good lesson to apply to other aspects of your life, if you will notice."

She watched him as he passed by her line of vision and then focused back on the sputtering Anchor. "If he says so," she murmured to herself, "then it's worth a shot..." She fixed her gaze on the bright green flares, willing herself not to flinch at every startling pop, hiss, or squeal. She figured if she faced the thing head-on, the electric crackles would eventually grow redundant. _It hasn't hurt me yet,_ she recalled, _and it only felt like hell when it was expanding or aggravated by Corypheus. I don't even think it_ is _electricity..._ She took a deep breath and made an equally deep exhalation. _It just feels a little tingly and vibrate-y...now it's a little ticklish,_ she remarked, and wiggled her fingers to stir some feeling back in. _Hm, I never held it still for that long before..._

To her pleasant surprise, the Anchor appeared to grow slightly less frenzied. And as she felt that pleasant surprise, the flares lowered down another notch. It was as if...as if the Anchor fluctuated in response to the intensity of her emotions – _so, kind of like biofeedback! Sweet!_ She looked up at Solas with a grin on her face. "It's working!" she boasted.

"I can see that," he acknowledged. "However, you still haven't canceled the mark."

"Oh, right..."

"Think about what _has_ worked in accomplishing that," Solas suggested. "When we were at the Crossroads, or whenever you closed rifts, even. What is a common factor that was present in each of these times?"

She pursed her lips in thought. _The first time it happened in Haven, I broke my mana concentration...no way I can do that now, since I'm pretty focused on it. At the Crossroads...I don't know what I did. Maybe it was the fact that Solas made me feel safe again? Then when rifts are closed, isn't that because the Anchor's found a target that it's...resolved, in a way? Is that it? A resolution?_ If that were so, then living targets did not seem to provide that resolution (as she had the misfortune of finding out). So how, exactly, had the Anchor ever been "resolved" without a rift?

She tried closing her eyes and breathing deeply while thinking of warm and safe things in an attempt to replicate that time with the dead archer. The Anchor then felt a little more subdued in response, but was still very much alive. She tried willing herself to withdraw some mana back inside her, but the Anchor held steadfast in its grab for power. _Well, what if I do a bit of the opposite, since none of these seem to work?_ she wondered idly.

Ahnnie knew she would regret it the moment she thought it out. The mark suddenly intensified as it drew on the offered wealth of mana, crackling and spitting with an even greater urgency than before, and the unintended result threw her newly cultivated confidence off balance. "U-um," she stuttered, "Solas? I don't think it's..."

"Did you put more mana into it?" he asked, and then frowned. "Whatever you do, _don't_ panic–"

He should have known her well enough by now to realize she would do just that. With a tightened grip over her left wrist, Ahnnie's mind went wild trying to find a way to stop the flares. She was already seeing the many ways it would go wrong in her mind's eye, and as the Anchor slipped farther out of her control, these fears only seemed to be further confirmed.

And then the magic began to break from the mark.

"Whoa!" Ahnnie shouted as a beam of green light shot from her palm. Her head flinched away and her eyes closed upon instinct, then her feet danced in a nervous hop-step backwards...the result was a tumultuous stumble against a rock that struck her heel. Crashing onto her back, the beam broke on impact and her hands went spread-eagled in an attempt to diminish the shock. It was only half-successful and her spine took the brunt of the fall against several low-lying rocks. _Ow..._

"Telamdys!" Solas rushed to her side, lifting her upper body with a supporting arm across her back. "Ahnnie! Are you all right?"

She opened her eyes and blinked through the spots of light and darkness dancing across her vision. Even in her disoriented state, though, she did not fail to miss the small rift opening in the middle of the clearing, sucking in whatever happened to be beneath it. It sent up a rush of air in its swirling, flirting through the flaps of Solas' tunic and strands of her hair as if vying futilely to bring them under its grasp. "Solas," she gasped, gripping his arm with her right hand. "What...!?"

He followed her frightened gaze to the little rift and then looked back at her. "That is...interesting. I'd forgotten about this. You remember the rift I had you open to trap Envy?"

"So...that's...?" She turned her marked palm upwards and stared at the Anchor in awe.

Solas nodded. "Now can you stand? We'll have to close it–"

But the rift disappeared as suddenly as she had called it into existence. As if in satisfaction of the forest debris it managed to pilfer, the rift collapsed in on itself until it, too, was sucked into the void, and the clearing returned to normal. Nothing was left behind to signal a rift had ever been there, not even the tiniest mark.

"–or not." Solas smiled at her. "But I think you have had enough magic practice for today. Can you sit up?" As she rose along to his gentle push, he took note of the Anchor. "Ah, it's still activated. Let me see what I can do to help. If you would hold still, please."

"O...kay..."

"Ahnnie? You don't sound well." When she didn't respond, he looked back up at her. "Ahnnie? Ahn – oh, fenedhis!" He reached out just as her body swayed and caught her squarely across both arms.

* * *

 

Ahnnie looked around at the swirling nothingness about her before facing the bald elf who had brought her here. "I fainted, didn't I?" she asked glumly.

"An irregular influx of mana was going through your body," Solas pointed out, "and you applied an inordinate amount of it to the Anchor. Not a surprising reaction, given the circumstances."

She looked down at her left hand, or at least the dream projection of it. "Is it still...?"

"The Anchor is at rest," he assured her. "When you fell unconscious, the flow of mana was disrupted; which is one way to solve your problem, at the very least. Just not one that can be regularly applied..."

 _Huh._ "So, what are we doing here?" she wondered aloud, kicking idly at a pebble she conjured from the nothingness. "Are we still having a lesson, or...?"

Solas shrugged. "We will do whatever you feel like doing, da'len. Exploring the Fade was not what I originally intended to do today, but an exception can be made. Or if you would prefer to rest as usual, then that is fine too."

Ahnnie thought on that for a second, tapping and tracing her foot against the miasmal ground as she did so. "I want to eat some phở," she said at last. "I'm starving."

Solas let out a laugh. "All right then – but I'm afraid you will still be starving when you wake up."

"I know. I was just craving it." She began to envision the place she wanted to go, and remarked, "I know a really good restaurant along Buford Highway. They've got some decent boba smoothies too."

"Phở is a Vietnamese dish?" he guessed.

"Yup."

"Then why settle for phở in Georgia when you can have it at its birthplace?"

"Well, that's because–" But then she paused when she realized he wasn't talking about a rival restaurant in the same area. "Wait, you mean...Vietnam?"

"Why not?" he countered. "I _did_ tell you that more than just your dreams and memories were brought to the Fade; it is the essence around you as well. And where was it that many of your family members spent a majority of their lives...?"

Her eyes brightened and her smile grew wider. "You are _brilliant_ , hahren, just brilliant! Also, we are totally going to Egypt next time. One of my uncles went there for a business trip and he got to tour the Valley of the Kings."

"Egypt it will be, then," Solas nodded. "I should like to see the pyramids in person."

 _Amen to that!_ But she would delight in it later. For now, she focused long and hard on what made Vietnam...well, Vietnam. A key to attempting such travel in the Fade – if daydreaming in place could be considered traveling – was to think of the ethos of the destination, the feelings it evoked, its character. Especially since she had never been to the country physically, her feelings would be paramount in constructing the dream scenario. Luckily, photographs and movies will have helped to fill in the blanks, as well as contributions from the memories of the people linked to her...

She did not realize her eyes were closed until the grassy fragrance of moist nature wafted across her nose. Her eyelids fluttered open to reveal a vast field of dusky golden stalks shimmering in the breeze like waves in a whispering sea. Breaking the surface were pale yellow, conical points, bobbing in time to the rise and fall of sickles. Voices called out to each other in between intervals, voices she knew and understood. Out in the distance, star-shaped palm and banana trees fringed the blue horizon like a leafy picture frame and a lazy stream cut across the landscape. A brown-garbed figure carrying two baskets on a shoulder pole appeared against that frame a moment later and lowered their cargo on the elevated path beside the field. In response, the voices now called to each other for a well-deserved lunch break.

Before Ahnnie could say anything, the lowing of a large animal startled her from behind and she jumped aside to let it pass. The sun-browned boy sitting atop the water buffalo poked fun at her skittishness before turning back to his job of steering the other two buffaloes with him down the path, trundling more or less in single file through the narrowly raised dirt. Ahnnie stepped back onto the path as soon as the last buffalo was well past her, staring in awe after their large grey backsides.

To anyone watching, the plain garb of the people around them would seem simplistic sets of long button-up shirts and pants. Combined with the conical hats, they might even seem alien. But to Ahnnie, these things were familiar raiments, symbolic of songs and stories and nostalgia: the _á_ _o bà ba_ and _nón lá_ of [the Southern Vietnamese countryside](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ak6FrR5xhNc).

"I must be dreaming," she murmured to herself with a hand over her mouth. "No, wait, I _am_ dreaming..."

"Indeed you are, da'len," Solas agreed, reaching down to pluck the tips of the stalks closest to their path. "Though I'm not quite sure this is where you intended to have phở."

"Oh!" She slapped her forehead. "Haha! I'm so silly – I heard a lot about the countryside growing up, you know? It's a heavily romanticized part of the culture, plus my dad grew up there. Well, his family was originally from the North, but they moved South when he was a toddler after the Northern government turned Communist. My mom, though, is from Saigon...or I guess, Hồ Chí Minh City now."

"Really?" Solas rubbed the grainy bulbs of rice between his fingers as he rose. "What an interesting history. So not only are you a child of the tropic sun and fields, but of the busy streets and avenues as well?"

"Don't you mean my parents?" she joked with a laugh. "I'm more of a child of the white stars and red stripes. And you forgot 'a dash of French architecture' in between 'streets and avenues'...but enough on that. Let's focus on getting to the city now."

Ahnnie turned down the path in the water buffaloes' line of travel and strode through the tracks churned into the dirt, walking confidently as if the city should be right around the corner. Solas followed her amusedly and voiced that opinion, to which she explained with a rather sheepish expression.

"That was how I switched through places in that time with Envy. Since we were in my memories, that would mean we were in the Fade to some extent, so I figured the same mechanism might apply in a dream..."

"An insightful observation," Solas praised. "And yes, it will work, so long as you believe."

She was glad to hear that as they came to a crossroads heavily fringed by long and wavy banana fronds. Ahnnie parted a section of the fronds and cut through a corner of the path to shove herself between two of the banana trees. Solas followed suit, and when they emerged on the other side, they found themselves facing a busy road in [a bright little city](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fQEi1hKkGD4), criss-crossed left and right with blurring traffic. Motorbikes and automobiles shared the asphalt indiscriminately, as well as a penchant for speeding.

"See, told you," Ahnnie said as she pointed to the facade of a brown gothic cathedral directly ahead of them. "Nhà Thờ Đức Bà Sài Gòn, or the Notre Dame Cathedral of Saigon. And right next to it is the Central Post Office." To their right, just across the street, was a large pinkish-white building with orange slate roofing featuring exquisite molding and bell arch windows. "Looks pretty Orlesian to you, doesn't it?"

"Indeed," he acknowledged. "Especially that face carved over the transom."

"There's several buildings like that scattered across Saigon built during the French occupation," Ahnnie explained. "There's old Vietnamese stuff too, like the Vĩnh Nghiêm Pagoda, but for the most part the city's built in a...it's a little hard to explain, but it's a kind of universal sort of structure on Earth that everyone calls 'modernized', just square-ish buildings and telephone lines..." She shook her head. "You'll understand better once you see more of it."

She considered walking to do so, but thought of a better idea when she noticed a couple of motorbike drivers seemingly lounging on their vehicles by the curb with nothing to do. Ahnnie immediately jogged over to them and asked, "Dạ, hai bác là tài xế xe ôm ạ?"

They nodded in unison and asked her if she needed their assistance; she nodded back in affirmative and gestured at both her and Solas. When the curious elf came over, she explained to him that they would be hiring xe ôm, or motorbike taxis, to take them where they needed to go. "It's much safer than walking through the traffic," she added, "which, in Saigon, has no rules."

Solas raised an eyebrow at this and watched her climb behind one of the motorbike drivers. He settled himself carefully behind the other one afterwards, and while she secured a helmet over her head, Ahnnie got down to the business of their destination: "Hai bác biết tiệm phở nào ngon nhất tại Sài Gòn?" _W_ _hat's the best place for phở in Saigon?_

"Phở hả?" her driver asked. "Chắc...nếu phải nói thì chắc là Phở Hòa Pasteur."

"Vậy thì cho cháu xin tới đó."

"Ông tây này theo luôn?" Solas' driver asked, jabbing a calloused thumb back at his elven passenger.

Ahnnie fought the urge to giggle at the thought of Solas being labeled "westerner" and nodded. Her driver then said, "Trăm ngàn cho hai người, nhe cháu."

 _100,000_ _đồng for two?_ Ahnnie pursed her lips as she tried to remember that would amount to in dollars, or if it was even a fair price. Remembering this was the Fade, however, she quickly nodded back. "Dạ được."

They set off after Solas was given his helmet. Starting out right from the street before the cathedral, the motorbikes sped left and offered them a more expansive side view of the religious building. Ahnnie's eyes widened as she zipped by the intricately detailed side transept, followed by the rounded radial chapels circling the ambulatory. _Wow! I never saw that part of the cathedral before!_ She couldn't take her eyes off even after the motorbikes made another left behind the cathedral to pass down an avenue of trees, enchanted as she was by the charming new angles, and swiveled her head back only when the tall bell towers disappeared behind the leaves.

They turned right at the next junction onto a street labeled "Pasteur". From then on, it was a continuous ride, zipping past fellow vehicles, pedestrians, and the city around them at an alarming speed. Ahnnie held her driver's waist a little tighter as she stared at the blocky, crowded buildings, reminiscent to her of a small-scale Chinatown. _What does Solas think of it?_ she wondered. _Obviously not as pretty as the cathedral and post office..._ but, in a way, it possessed its own urban charm. Funny how something she'd only seen in pictures and used to judge as trashy could feel so different, almost endearing, in person.

They finally arrived at their destination, an unassuming little space along a strip of shops with a granite storefront labeled "Phở Hòa" in both Vietnamese and Chinese in gold lettering. "Pasteur" sat to the other side in bright red, isolated from the gold by the line of Chinese characters.

Ahnnie and Solas disembarked by the curb, and the girl paid their drivers with a crisp 100,000₫ bill she fished from her tunic's pocket. Going past the hot and cold food displays sitting out by the entrance, Ahnnie and Solas finally entered the restaurant. There were no doors, but two rectangular openings fitted with folding gates on either side. A waiter in khakis and flipflops added to the casual yet cozy ambience of the interior, small though it was, and seated them at a table for two along a wall. Even if he did not produce a menu, they could still view the selections taped on the wall behind the counter and plastered about the two columns in the center.

"Hahren, you have not lived until you've tried cà phê sữa đá," she said the moment the waiter asked for their drinks. "Trust me, it's _so_ good! If you don't like it, I swear I'll get you another drink and pay for your meal."

Solas chuckled. "Very well; I put my trust in you."

"Cho hai ly cà phê sữa đá," she then ordered, and the waiter left. Solas took the opportunity in the meantime to glance over the menu, helpfully labeled with pictures of the fare above their names. He was looking at the different types of phở in particular, and even though there were also English labels, Ahnnie knew he couldn't read them well and took it upon herself to be helpful. "To be honest, hahren, you look more of a phở gà kind of guy," she said, pointing to the bowl of chicken phở. "But phở tái is pretty good too, and so is phở gân and bò viên." Her finger went over the bowls of sliced rare beef, tendon, and meatballs. "You could order any combination of the cuts actually, but if you want to try everything, you should get the phở đặc biệt."

"So that is how phở is served?" he mused. "A base of broth and rice noodles, then your choice of meat? And is it mostly with beef?"

"The soup's made from beef, so yeah," she said with a shrug. "Some places nowadays add different variations, like shrimp or tofu...I know it's a lot to process at first. If you're confused about anything, I'd be glad to help."

He nodded thoughtfully before sliding the menu away. "In that case, I shall try a little bit of everything. How would I place that order?"

Ahnnie thought on that for a moment. "Quantity, object, adjective," she said at last. "So - một tô phở đặc biệt. Literally, 'one bowl phở special'. Depending on what size you want, you'd add 'thường' or 'lớn' to the end, since those're what this restaurant has; regular or large. But the identity of the dish is a given, so I would say một tô đặc biệt makes more sense."

"There are no plural nouns or equivalent to 'of'?"

"Now that you mentioned it, no. Nouns have to have numbers or quantifiers before them. And in a possessive case, 'của' goes in between the object and possessor, but sometimes it'll be omitted for convenience. It's kind of like how people don't say 'the book of the girl' all the time, I guess."

Solas nodded thoughtfully. At that same moment, the waiter returned with their cups of iced coffee. Ahnnie immediately descended upon hers, swirling the ice and thick, creamy coffee with her straw before taking a long undue sip. She relished the bittersweet bite at the back of her tongue, and then looked up as the waiter began asking for their orders.

"Một tô đặc biệt thường," Solas interjected before she could speak, and the waiter was slightly taken aback by the westerner's almost fluent command of the tones.

"Một tô tái sách thường," Ahnnie put in a moment later, recapturing the waiter's attention.

"Tái sách?" Solas inquired after he departed for the kitchen. "What would that be?"

"Sliced rare beef and tripe," she explained. "I always get that."

A dish of fresh herbs arrived first, which Ahnnie pointed out as Thai basil, culantro, beansprouts, and two wedges of lime to taste. They served as garnishes for the phở that could be added according to preference. That made her remember there was a variety of sauces on the table such as the dark hoisin sauce, red Sriracha sauce, and hot chili paste, which she also explained could be mixed in or kept on a sauce dish for dipping meat.

And then came the moment of truth. Two steaming hot bowls of phở arrived at the table not longer than ten minutes after the garnishes, one with slices of pink meat and white tripe laid over the noodles, the other with an assortment heaped about. Ahnnie thought she might have to show Solas how to manipulate chospticks, but he assured her he had already learned from trying out sushi at the mall. _I wonder just how much of Earth he's witnessed?_ she thought as she squeezed some lime over everything and tucked in, first taking a sip of the savory broth, then a bite of the soft noodles. A moment later she crunched through the springy tripe and lifted a slice of rare beef from the top, still fresh and pink, and slid it onto her tongue.

Ahnnie watched Solas carefully over the lip of her bowl, noting the almost delicate way with which he sampled the different meats – flank, brisket, tendon, meatball...like her, he opted to leave sauces out of the soup, but tested them out anyway by skimming some meat over them before plopping it on a bed of noodles in his spoon. He was methodical and deliberate in his movements, and she swore she even heard some nosy restaurant-goer remark, "By god, that foreigner eats like a cat!"

Once they were halfway through did she dare to ask the inevitable. "So, hahren...what do you think?"

Solas paused to finish chewing before he answered her. "It is certainly new," he began. "I think I taste star anise and cloves in the broth...maybe a hint of cinnamon? Combined with the beef stock, it is a most innovative balance of flavor. The meat is cooked well and steeped in flavor from the broth, but I think I prefer the tendon overall."

She couldn't help the warmth spreading through her cheeks, and not just from the soup steam. "And the coffee?" she added whilst struggling to suppress a widening smile.

Solas stirred his glass and smiled in amusement at her. "I won't be needing another drink," he answered cryptically, and took a little sip. "It is a bit strong, though," he added with a slight cough.

But as all good things must be, their meal soon came to an end. Ahnnie reluctantly watched the noodles and meat in her bowl disappear until there was nothing but clouded brown broth left over. Solas left more leftovers, mainly because he had been here to sample rather than eat. Regardless, the phở certainly hit the spot, and dream or no dream her stomach felt satisfied. She sat back in her chair and drained the last of her coffee, slurping it up until there was no more.

Solas merely twirled his drink with a straw, and Ahnnie did not notice the pensive frown on his features until he spoke up. "I understand the Fade is a poor substitute for the real experience–"

Ahnnie raised a brow when he didn't continue. "The Fade is much better than the most advanced virtual reality technology to date," she countered. "I couldn't ask for anything better."

"I know," he said quietly. "Still. It feels...inadequate, given what you've lost."

"What...is that still bothering you? Hahren, don't worry, I'm perfectly fine."

Solas smiled up at her and shook his head. "Forgive me, I simply thought...well, it just felt necessary to say."

"Hey, it's totally fine," she assured him yet again. "You shouldn't have to feel bad about it. I mean, what could you do? You couldn't have known that I was going to come over here. Even if you did, we'd risk both our lives trying to navigate the Fade physically. You know a lot about the Fade hahren, I'm sure you do; but just because you don't know enough about it to help me doesn't mean you're a failure. Or whatever it is you're thinking."

He slid a weary hand over his face and heaved out a long sigh. "You'll never know how much it means to hear you say that," he breathed, almost whispered, but before Ahnnie could respond to it he smiled and rose from his seat. "I'm going to use the restroom for a bit. Wait here and get the check, if you can."

"Huh? Okay..." She couldn't help but wonder if her words truly had any effect, though, or if he was just saying that. Then she eyed the quarter-full glass of cà phê sữa đá Solas had left behind. _Is he still drinking that? Does he still want it, or...?_

A sleek red blouse slid into Solas' empty chair in between these thoughts, jarring her vision and composure. With a start, Ahnnie perked up and faced the blouse's owner, a suave young man with slicked-back hair and shifty eyes; a pair of dark sunglasses sat tucked in the middle of his collar, which was flared open by a button or two.

"Chào em," he greeted, his voice a blend of sultry brazenness. "Sao lẽ loi vậy? Bộ em tới đây một mình hả?" _Hey babe. Why so lonely? Did you come here alone?_

Ahnnie stared at him awhile in shock, taken aback by his openly flirtatious manner. Was this supposed to be a part of the Fade scene? She was able to interact with people, but no one had approached her yet. Eventually she composed herself enough to shake her head. "Dạ không. Em tới đây với..." She paused a moment, wondering what to call Solas. It felt weird calling him chú, as it might imply blood relations if used possessively. Then she thought of the perfect answer: "...sư phụ em." _I'm here with m_ _y sifu._

"Oh! Sư phụ!" His eyes widened in faux amazement. "Chà! Chắc em giỏi võ lắm phải không?" _You must be a skilled martial artist, eh?_ "Anh cũng biết võ vậy. Em biết võ gì không?" _I know martial arts too; know what kind?_

 _What is this guy..._ Ahnnie flitted her eyes here and there in search of Solas, but he was apparently still in the bathroom. "Võ gì?" she decided to ask, hoping the young man would stop after she'd played along far enough.

"Thì là võ ba chọ đó. Nổi tiếng lắm." _Ba chọ_. _It's real famous._

Her face twisted into further confusion. The name was not only weird, but a strange arrangement of vowels that held no sensible meaning whatsoever. "Ba chọ là cái gì vậy?" she asked incredulously.

"Bộ em không biết à?" _D_ _on't you know?_

"Không..." _No..._

 _"_ Không biết thật?" _You really don't know?_

"Đã nói là không mà..." _I already said no..._

The young man's smile turned into a smirk as he blurted out, "Tức là _bỏ chạy_!" _The martial art of_ running away _!_

And now it dawned upon her. He had made use of the typical Vietnamese pun joke of switching the vowels and tones between two words. She'd heard more clever use of it than this, though. Ra máu, rau má – loosing blood, pennywort juice; đá banh, đánh ba – soccer, hitting dad. _And why would he even joke about doing something like 'running away' while calling me a martial artist?_ Vietnamese guys, as she had heard, possessed more bravado than that.

"She doesn't look all that impressed, if you ask me."

Ahnnie gave yet another start and whirled around in her seat. "Hahren!" she exclaimed in relief. _Finally, I'm rescued!_

The young man, on the other hand, was not so happy. His face was already twisting into a deep scowl, marring his otherwise slick features. Solas merely smiled back, an amused, thin-lipped smile, and began to say something Elvish under his breath. The young man shot up from his seat and threw his hands into the air. "All right, all right!" he suddenly exclaimed in Common. "I am leaving, elf!"

"Then what are you waiting for?" Solas retorted. "I want you gone. _Now_."

The young man huffed and began to storm out of the restaurant. "If you don't want your precious charge falling into trouble, then maybe you shouldn't have left her so vulnerable in the first place!" he spat, and then finally disappeared around the corner. His voice, Ahnnie noticed, devolved from sultry to coarse; almost primal.

"What on earth was that?" Ahnnie asked after a moment of shocked silence.

"You met a demon," Solas explained, to which Ahnnie jumped up from her seat. "A desire demon, to be exact."

"A desire demon!? Aren't those high on the Brahm's Scale?"

"Even the Chantry admits not all demons can be ranked equally on that spectrum," Solas countered. "Desire demons can be powerful, but it also depends on the individual demon and what aspect of their designated emotions they focus on. For example, that demon was focused on lust – a desire demon focused on a more complex desire would be stronger."

"Oh..."

"That is not to say someone lustful wouldn't have fallen for the deceit, however. What such people as Madame Vivienne won't tell you, is that the probability of being affected by a certain demon depends on the victim's personality as well as the demon's power. Whereas they may have lost their heads over seeing you simply talking with that demon, I was perfectly certain that nothing would come of it, even when I'd noticed it watching you while we ate."

Ahnnie couldn't believe what she was hearing. "You...let him talk to me on purpose?"

"Da'len, I don't mean anything by this, but because of certain things you are not easily tempted by lust, now are you?" When she was silent, he continued, "But consider why Envy almost succeeded in possessing you, and your suicidal thoughts when near a despair demon. This information is key to building a defense against demonic possession; and it becomes even more essential when literally anything you encounter in the Fade is a spirit or demon in disguise."

"So all these people here..." She gestured at the little restaurant. "The xe ôm drivers..."

"And even inanimate objects," Solas added.

She slapped a horrified hand over her mouth. _Oh...gross! I ate a spirit!_

"That is not necessarily so," Solas explained with a laugh. "But a possibility. Spirits emulate what they see in the minds of dreamers, da'len. They are very intrigued with the waking world. Many have a strong desire to experience life as we know it...if you can, I suggest you read the _Comprehensive Study on Denizens of the Fade_ by Senior Enchanter Rhys of the White Spire. It will give you a better idea of what I'm talking about for our next lesson. For now, I shall take you back to Skyhold for some real food."

Ahnnie eagerly followed him outside at that, and thought perhaps that a little space of time between now and their next Fade trip wouldn't be so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to fellow residents of OTP east Atlanta, especially if you traverse the Buford area! I placed Cinnabon at the corner of the food court rather than JCPenny, as it only moved to that location 4 months after this fic was meant to start (that is, July 2016). Plus I added a teeny little bit to Cole's part in Chapter 7 of Part 2 (Whispers of the Just) 'cause I reread it and thought it sounded too Sue-ish at the end.
> 
> – Viet notes –
> 
> Disclaimer: The Saigon/HCM city Solas and Ahnnie experienced may not be 100% accurate and is not the Saigon of today. I would put it generally between the early 90's to 2000's, just to be on the safe side. The city today is far more industrialized and, well, different. Maybe go and see for yourself sometime ;).
> 
> Hiring xe ôm~
> 
> D vs. Đ: In Vietnamese, D on its own has a "y" sound (if Southern) or "z" sound (if Northern). Đ indicates the hard "d" sound.
> 
> Central Post Office is described here as light-pinkish; today it's a bright yellow after a recent paint job.
> 
> "Hai bác biết tiệm phở nào ngon nhất tại Sài Gòn?" roughly translates to "Do you two know the best phở shop in Saigon?" I omitted "Do you two" because it sounds clunky and, colloquially, "What's the best place?" flows better in English while carrying the same meaning. Hai bác = literally, 2 (older) uncles, is spoken first as a mark of politeness. Bác indicates anyone older than your parent (or your parents' oldest sibling) but not grandparent relations.
> 
> In case you were wondering, "Ông tây này theo luôn?" means "This (male) westerner is coming too?"
> 
> 100,000₫ = $4.40 and is not a super fair price for 2 people at a distance of 1.6km, btw (fair would be 20,000₫ per km). Individual xe ôm drivers typically quote their own prices, so if you're not careful you can get overcharged. In this case Ahnnie's driver gave a price for two because it's easier to just talk with the one who knows Vietnamese, plus he probably knows the other driver well and figures she's not from around there so she won't notice the difference. Had Solas been on his own, he might have gotten swindled for far more. To that end, I hear there's a new app nowadays that standardizes the industry more.
> 
> Phở time~
> 
> Phở Hòa Pasteur is a real place. It's famous for being run by the same family for quite a few generations now and an heirloom recipe that has sparked restaurant chains worldwide.
> 
> Cho hai ly cà phê sữa đá – "Cho", or "give", is sometimes spoken before placing an order (or requesting anything, actually) to sound polite. "Give me two glasses of iced coffee" is what that translates to. The ultimate politeness is "Cho xin", "Let me ask for [insert item here], please". "Xin cho" for "Please give me" would not be applicable as it sounds more like begging, which defeats the purpose of a restaurant.
> 
> Flirting desire demon~
> 
> Sifu means master, so why isn't sư phụ translated to "master"? Thing is, sư phụ has a martial artsy connotation in Vietnamese thanks to media portrayals. Sifu in the same way has a similar vibe in English, plus it's literally the word's origin, so it is more or less an okay counterpart. Ahnnie could have used "thầy" or "thầy giáo" instead, as both mean "teacher", maybe even do okay as "master", but the implication is more like "schoolteacher" than how she views Solas.
> 
> And then the whole "ba chọ, bỏ chạy" joke – I was hit with that not too long ago and thought it would be funny to share here.


	8. Herald's Rest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This update is way more than a month late, and for that, I sincerely apologize!

The shuffle of robes and flutter of pages greeted Ahnnie as she went up the steps to the atrium library. Ringed on all sides with shelves, it provided a view of the rotunda below through a stone balustrade and supported the musty rookery above with sturdy wooden beams. Polearms was now rescheduled to every other day, giving her extra time on certain mornings, so she decided to spend this one searching for the book Solas recommended. She figured she should make the best use of her new availability as possible before more duties swamped her; her assistance in repairs no longer being necessary, there was only the Inquisitorship to worry about, and so far she'd been feeling its effects in the form of Alexius' judgment and more frequent war councils. But soon...

 _History of the Inquisition?_ Ahnnie paused at the shelf she was perusing and slid the book from its slot to have a look. With a cloud of dust, it opened up its secrets to her, secrets written in a brittle hand that detailed the formation of the first Inquisition all the way to the subsequent Nevarran Accord; at least, that was what she could gather from the summary on the cover page and table of contents.

 _Inquisitor Merek was the first Inquisitor_ _,_  Ahnnie thought in awe as she skimmed through the pages.  _Ah...so they were kind of Spanish Inquisition-y_ _,_ she next thought as she read a passage on some of the Inquisition's blood mage and heretic hunts, oft described as part of "a reign of terror". Not the least bit surprising, considering how they were originally a loose group of Andrastian hardliners.

She flipped further through the years as she pulled into a slow walk about the library, engrossed in the runes that brought to life the organization she was now part of – that she was now  _leader_ of – pouncing on the ones that gave away the names of her predecessors especially.  _Botulf, Isembard, Rohese, Galiena...Inquisitor Ameridan was the last one..._ She sounded the syllables in her mind and imagined writing the name out in English.  _Hmm, sounds like 'American'. And it would start with an 'A', like my name._ Coincidence? She allowed herself a small smile as she thought,  _maybe_ _._

Of course, after the Nevarran Accord, Ameridan would not have been Inquisitor any longer. But what intrigued her was that, unlike the other Inquisitors, who had documented deaths, Ameridan disappeared during the early years of the Divine Age. He simply vanished from written record; whether of his own accord or some unknown demise, no one knew for certain...

 _Oh, right! The Fade Denizen Study thing!_ That was what she'd come here to get, not this history book. Still, it would prove to be an interesting read, so she tucked it under her arm while backtracking to the shelf to resume her search.  _If only we had librarians here. That would make this so much easier. Do we have librarians?_ She wasn't sure she wanted to bother the silent people around her, afraid of mistaking them for what they were not.  _But I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask..._

Deep in her musings, Ahnnie almost missed the mustached mage brooding in an alcove to her right, catching him only by chance from the corner of her eye. He was sitting in a chair by the window, bent over a letter of sorts. Wondering what had him so introspective, Ahnnie slowed to a stop and rapped a knuckle on the nearest shelf. "Hey, Dorian."

It took a moment for him to realize he had been addressed. "Yes?" Dorian asked as he looked up, inquisitive.

"What's up? Is it anything interesting?" She pointed at the parchment.

He blinked. "Hm? This? Oh, it's...a letter regarding Felix."

"Really?" With all that had happened, she'd almost forgotten about him. "What's it say?"

Dorian leaned back in his chair and laid the letter against his thigh. "He went to the Magisterium," he explained. "Stood on the Senate floor and told them of you. A glowing testimonial, I'm informed. No news on the reaction, but everyone back home is talking." He paused a bit before adding, softly, "Felix always was as good as his word."

Though the news should have been good, she couldn't help noticing the mage's deflated tone. "Dorian?" Ahnnie asked worriedly. "Is something wrong?"

Dorian's hand clenched the letter a little tighter as he opened his mouth to speak. When no sound seemed able to make it past his throat, he huffed a brusque exhalation as though to force the words out. "He's dead," Dorian said at last. "The Blight caught up with him."

Ahnnie's breath caught in her throat and a hand involuntarily covered her mouth. "Oh no...Dorian, I...I'm so sorry..."

"He was ill and on borrowed time anyhow. It was coming, one way or another."

"Still, it...I hoped...and after what I said in the judgment..."

"I know," Dorian murmured. He looked back down at the letter again, rereading the runes for what must have been the umpteenth time before tearing his gaze away to give her a little smile. "He used to sneak me treats from the kitchens when I worked late in his father's study, you know. 'Don't get into trouble on my behalf,' I'd tell him. 'I like trouble,' he'd say. Even in illness, Felix was the best of us; with him around, you knew things could be better. Tevinter could use more mages like him."

Despite his controlled voice, Ahnnie could see the emotion building in his moistening eyes. Suddenly, she, too, felt the same wetness in hers. "If only...if only he had been on Earth, he might have had a chance," she blurted out. "Our medicine is much more advanced and a solution could've been found–"

"Unless this advanced medicine could purge the taint completely, I would not call an elongated comatose existence a ' _solution_ '," Dorian countered quietly. "You saw what the good doctor's cure did for him...and I hardly think you'd want the same for yourself." He shook his head. "No, I think Felix was happier this way. Strange, I know – who in their right mind wants to die? But when I think of the agony he must have gone through, and that look in his eyes every time I cracked a 'not-dying' joke..."

Her eyes flickered from Dorian's pained gaze down to the stone floor. "Does his father know?"

"Not yet," Dorian admitted. "But soon."

Ahnnie bit down on her lower lip as she tried not to imagine how that would play out. "Take it slow with him," she said after a while. "At least, that's what I would do. He's been through a lot, and...this news...it would crush him."

She was met with a quizzically raised brow when she looked back up. "An awfully kind thing to say of someone who almost destroyed the world," its owner remarked.

"Well..." Ahnnie's free hand rose and fell in her attempt to find a logical explanation, slapping back to her side when she couldn't. "It's true, isn't it? Everything he did was so he wouldn't lose Felix. He'd already lost his wife and now, his freedom...that's not to say it was all excusable, but I can't imagine how I would feel, if I were in his place..."

Dorian's eyes wandered in distant contemplation as he refolded the letter, and for a while he stayed that way. "I knew you wouldn't have the heart to give him a harsh sentence," he murmured at length. "Even when I doubted you, I had a feeling you wouldn't follow through with it. For that, I am grateful. I'm sure Alexius is as well."

Ahnnie did her best to muster a smile though she knew the probability of that last sentence was not very likely. She considered saying something in return, but nothing adequate came to mind. Then, seeing Dorian rise from his chair, she readjusted the hold on her book and decided it was time to leave. "Well, I have to go now. I'll still be in the library, but I've got to look for something. You'll, um...you'll be okay?"

"I will, thank you."

"All right, then. I'll see you later." Hugging the Inquisition book to her chest, she turned on her heel and retreated from the alcove.

"Try not to die," Dorian teased gently after her retreating form. "I would notice you were gone."

* * *

 

The weight of two books laid against her chest as Ahnnie exited the rotunda, taking the doorway leading outside rather than the one to the main hall. She'd planned on returning to her quarters to enjoy her new reads, but after learning of Felix's fate, a walk in the open felt more appropriate. With a much-needed drink of fresh air, Ahnnie slowly descended the winding steps round the tower, touching upon the lower courtyard a moment later directly across from the stables.

 _Glad to see Dennet's doing well,_ she thought as she watched the horsemaster tend to his steeds. He was instructing a new groom in particular on how to properly pick hooves. The mount they worked on was one of the new ones, if Ahnnie wasn't mistaken; she heard that Dennet had sent to his main farm in the Hinterlands for more, plus a good many had been donated along with supplies. Watching the men interact with the horse made her remember her own, though, and it was with a guilty conscience that she turned away to stifle the memory beneath the cruel Frostback snow where it belonged.

 _Blackwall's made his own place in the barn loft,_ she thought instead,  _and I hear he's been carving up lots of new stuff there._ A pair of newly polished chopsticks had been left as a present on her desk a few days ago, in fact, bearing little pinecone carvings at the base.  _Cole's been pretty quiet as of late._ She hadn't seen him much beyond coincidentally running into him at intervals; no further fuss had been raised about his presence, causing her to think his situation stable for now.  _Then I think Bull and his Chargers've taken up space in the new tavern..._

Speak of the devil; her thoughts were broken seconds later by none other than Krem and Skinner jostling up ahead on their way to the upper courtyard. It was the first time she'd seen Skinner so lively, yet even then the city elf seemed to radiate danger. It was like watching Krem play with a wild predator. As he spun from the reach of Skinner's dagger, playfully swiped in what Ahnnie hoped was only mock aggression, his eyes met hers and brightened in recognition.

"Ahnnie!" Krem hailed. Skinner whirled around in response, lips curving into a smirk as she saw who it was. "Or is it Inquisitor now? Not gonna flay us alive for addressing you wrong, are you?"

"Don't worry," Skinner assured her fellow Charger, dragging a slender finger against the dagger's edge. "Threatening the world gets comfortable servitude. You're in more danger of becoming Tranquil."

Ahnnie did her best to hide her cringe beneath a friendly smile as she approached. "To be fair, I wouldn't exactly call Alexius' new life 'comfortable'. Ahnnie's still fine, by the way," she added to Krem.

"Fed and warm with no need to sweat? Comfortable," Skinner contended with a flick of the blade.

Ahnnie fidgeted at the elf's daring ease with the weapon, and what sounded like a smidgen of reproach in the prickling words. "A person's psychological state is important too," she felt the need to say. "At least, that's what I've found," she added with another fake smile.

Krem rolled his eyes at the both of them. "Save the philosophy for the red-robes," he groaned. "Or better yet, drown it all in alcohol. Whaddyou say, Ahnnie? Care for a drink? Chief's been missing you."

He hooked a chummy arm around her shoulder, causing her to tense her grip on the books. "W-well..." She averted her eyes from his face, suddenly brought so close to hers. "I guess an ale sounds nice..."

"Ha! 'Course it does."

 _I could totally use the distraction,_ she thought as she went along with Krem, slipping out of his grasp a few steps later with a playful duck of her head.  _It's just...Skinner..._ The dark haired elf still toyed with her dagger bare-handed, performing such feats as flipping and catching it by the blade tip. She seemed to derive a morbid amusement in sending chills down Ahnnie's spine, putting the girl on edge with every close call and seeming imperviousness to sharp points.

"You should train with us sometime, you know," Krem said. "Show us some of your new moves. You've got an enchanted weapon, yeah? Bet that'll come in handy real soon."

"Training! Good idea," Ahnnie chimed along, eagerly tearing her mortified gaze away from Skinner. "I could learn a thing or two from you guys as well. You still remember the Tevinter sword style by any chance?"

" _Pah! '_ Remember'? I could do it in my sleep with a hand tied behind my back," Krem boasted. "Tevinter'll give you better balance than that Fereldan flailing they've taught you, at any rate."

"But Cassandra's the one who's taught me sword fighting," Ahnnie interjected with a frown. "And I don't think she's Fereldan?"

"Nevarran, whatever," Krem said as they started mounting the stairs. The tavern lay just across once they crested the first landing, its brand new sign swaying merrily in the breeze. "But if it's Nevarran you've been learning, then that's not too far removed from Tevinter. Still not as refined, in my opinion."

"Huh, I never noticed. She always talked about blade shapes and their uses, but never said anything about a style. I didn't even know she was  _from_  Nevarra..." But Ahnnie trailed off as they drew near the entrance, her attention arrested on the shield-shaped sign rocking to and fro above the door. "Is that..." She squinted as she tried to discern the shapes painted on its surface. "Is that  _me?_ "

When they finally came close enough, she realized that yes, it was indeed her painted on the sign. More specifically, it was her cradled in Andraste's arms like a sleeping babe, marked hand hanging freely and glowing with the Anchor's trademark verdancy. Both she and the Maker's Bride were dressed in robes of snowy white, but while her face was turned away from view, Andraste looked out at those beyond the sign with a rosy-cheeked maternal serenity.

Krem smiled knowingly as he opened the door for her. "Guess what they call it?"

He revealed a spacious tap room more than thrice the size of the Singing Maiden's. Walled by stone and floored with rush-strewn wood, it sported a little hearth blazing merrily near the center, long chimney nestled in the nook of the stairway. Following the chimney's ascent to the high ceiling above, Ahnnie could see not one but  _two_ more storeys in addition to the ground floor. With an awed step, she crossed the threshold and made for the carpeted space before the hearth, but a plaque on one of the wooden posts caught her eye first. She walked closer to it and read its words aloud:

" _A place for all in service here, to rest, recoup, and persevere_ –  _Though weighs the heart, remember best, your saving grace..._ _the Herald's Rest._ "

"Do you like it?" a dulcet voice asked her from across the room, and Ahnnie looked up to find Maryden the bard striding expectantly towards her, mug in hand. "Osbert wanted something to officiate the tavern with, and I thought a verse would make it stand out..."

"Oh, of course! It's perfect!" Ahnnie exclaimed. "It's–"

A joyful bark interrupted her and her shoes were beset by a pair of nosy snouts, followed by sharp teeth. The propulsion of three furry bodies against her calves made her pitch forward slightly, which she took with a laugh as she knelt to meet the canine threat to her leather boots. "Charley! Pepper!  _Down,_ boys!  _Eek_ , Maiden!" she squealed as they doubled their assault with slimy face licks. "One at a time – you've gotten so big!"

Krem chuckled as he came up to her, Skinner lurking darkly behind him. "I'm going to the chief," the elf announced with a pat on his shoulder, flipping her dagger in a little toss back into its sheath as she slipped away. "Come when you're ready."

"We'll be right there," he affirmed, and turned back to the laughing Inquisitor at his feet. "The yellow one's chewing on a book," he informed with a boot nudge to her leg. Noticing the bard before them, he looked up and flashed Maryden a grin. "Thought the place seemed a bit too quiet. Enjoying a break?" He nodded at the mug.

Maryden smiled back and shook her head. "Yes, but it's just water." She cleared her throat and gestured back at the lute and stool beside the fireplace. "Grab a seat and drink; I'll be back to playing soon and would love to hear what you think of my new song. I finished it last night and was refining it just now...you wouldn't mind?"

Ahnnie rolled away from the puppies and shot back up, breathless. They still attacked her feet, though, at which she couldn't help but grin. "No, of course not...Ack, he got a bit of the binding!" she lamented, fingering the wet toothmarks in  _The Inquisition_ 's spine, albeit not-so-regretfully. "Pepper, how could you..."

"Right, come along," Krem urged as he ushered her to the tables. The puppies he scattered with a flick of the wrist before they could distract her again, and they were off in a flash after the piece of old biscuit he had tossed. As he and Ahnnie neared a table, marked in particular by a pair of familiar pronged horns, Krem belted out, "Oi! Chief! We weren't keepin' you, were we?"

The scruffy heads of a handful of Chargers turned in their direction, and the Iron Bull let out a roar of laughter. "'Bout time! Thought Skinner ate you or something." Noticing Ahnnie and the books in her arms, Bull added, "Well, look what the  _Crème_  dragged in! Make some space, boys."

Ahnnie smiled sheepishly as she slid into a space between Rocky and Stitches. Grim stared nonchalantly across from her, flanked by a sniggering Skinner and a shaggy-haired Charger she hadn't yet met. "Krem caught me before I could put these away," she explained, stroking some hair behind an ear as she laid the books down. "Hope that's okay? I could do that real quick and come back..."

"This has got to be  _the most_ politest boss I've ever worked for," Bull remarked to the Chargers around him. "Ain't that right, boys?" At the chorus of playful assents, he waved the matter away. "Nah, boss, you're good where you are. Lemme see what you got there–" And before she could protest, Stitches slid the books out in front of him to read their covers.

"A  _History of the Inquisition_ ," the healer announced to the table before sliding the other book to Krem, who handed it to Bull.

"Some fancy-pants book on Fade monsters!" the qunari barked, and Ahnnie swore her heart leapt to her mouth as he tossed it heedlessly down to the shaggy Charger, who caught it one-handed by the spine and spun it like a top on its axis before laying it flat to a random page in the middle.

"...I can't read," the Charger said after a while of staring blankly at the runes.

"Well no kiddin', Snipe! I was aiming for Grim!"

While they busied themselves laughing, Ahnnie shot a hand out for the book. Snipe looked up in response to the movement, causing her to hesitate. She met his one-eyed gaze with a shaky smile. "Could I have it back...please?"

The book's fate seemed uncertain as he pondered her question with an indecisive hum. Then, in a deft swipe, Snipe flipped it into his hands and arced back his arm. Horrified, Ahnnie clambered out of her seat in a desperate bid to catch it, but when he flicked his wrist, it was to deposit the volume normally in her outstretched hands. The entire table erupted in laughter at Ahnnie's shocked face, and she settled back into her seat with burning cheeks.

"Sorry boss, couldn't help it," Iron Bull apologized, wheezing. "So...whaddyou want? My treat."

"Ah, no, it's fine," she demurred, carefully sliding  _The Inquisition_ back to her from where it lay before Stitches. Stacking the books onto each other, she added, "I can pay for myself. I guess for now I'll just have an ale."

"Nonsense! Just sit tight and let this one on me. You can pay for all our drinks next time; eh, boys?" he asked his Chargers with a mischievous wink. Before Ahnnie could protest, Bull barked for a server, his thunderous voice booming across the tavern. Background noise ceased for the split second that the volume reached its peak.

Five minutes later, a response floated down to them from the other end of the tap room. "The Lady Herald is here!" A shining bald pate ringed with dark brush bobbed amongst the tables, and Osbert popped in shortly after. "Why did no one tell me sooner? You ought t've told me sooner, Maryden!" he barked in slight reproach.

"Don't forget  _me_ , Papa!" And Netta bounced into place from behind, sticking her head through the space between Rocky and Ahnnie. "Hello," she greeted them both when they turned to her.

Rocky wiggled his fingers at her good-naturedly while Ahnnie swiveled about to better face the little girl. "Of course, she said. "Who could ever forget you?" Stroking the child's unkempt mane, she ran her fingers gently through the knotted brown tangles and beamed up at Osbert. "I was starting to wonder what you were up to. Little did I know it was opening up your own tavern! How long?"

Osbert's cheeks flushed, turning a ruddy complexion even ruddier. "Been almost a week now," he continued, "Lady Heral – I mean...Inquisitor."

"I know," Bull sympathized. "Takes some getting used to."

Suddenly, an incensed feline yowling pierced the air, making Ahnnie jolt. " _Piss off,_ _yah stupid cat!_ " Sera's voice echoed from the floor above above, followed by a loud clatter. Everyone looked up and saw a silvery flash weaving between the table legs closest to the railings, hounded by a bouncing wooden mug. As the cat dashed down the steps, the irate elf could be heard sneering "Chucking hairballs on my friggin' feet" before stomping off and slamming a door.

"So's having good ol' Sera as a tenant," Krem added with a snicker. "Or landlord, however you see it. Must make for a lively time, eh?"

Netta's face twisted into a displeased pout. "I wish she wouldn't do that with Silver! It happens with the puppies, too," she tattled to Ahnnie. "Mr. Blackwall says cats are good because they hunt vermin, and a tavern with no vermin is a clean one. I tried telling her but she wouldn't listen. She also makes Nala blush with 'lood' jokes. Lady Inquisitor, what does 'lood' mean?"

"Never you mind about that," Osbert chided from the corner of his mouth. "Anyway..." He wiped his hands on the edge of his apron and looked expectantly about the table. "What can I get you folks? I see you've just arrived," he pointed at Krem and Skinner. "And of course, Inquisitor," he added with a nod.

"Get me a beer," Krem ordered.

"Whisky," Skinner chimed in.

"An ale," was Ahnnie's obvious answer. Then she paused. "And...a bowl of stew. If it's the same venison stew, that would be great, but if it's not...still great." A sheepish smile concluded the order, along with hope that she hadn't been too imposing.

Osbert's old eyes softened. "We've a fresh pot on the stove," he murmured through his beard. "Still the same old recipe. Well, I've added more rosemary and adjusted the stock, but..."

"It sounds good," Ahnnie affirmed.

The tavern cook – now innkeep, she supposed – puffed with pride and declared thereupon that he would deliver their orders himself. Netta giggled at her new papa's pomp as Ahnnie made room for the child to sit next to her; she was eager to catch up on the little girl's side of things and neither Rocky nor the others seemed to mind. As their table lapsed into cheerful banter once more, Ahnnie thought she could hear a thoughtful murmur rambling across the din.

"...sweet, something sweet – ale's not enough, gets musty after a while. She'd like something sweeter, something fruity, brighter...mead, perhaps? Or the new wine from Orlais, made of plums..."

Osbert paused in his tracks, blinking confusedly for several seconds. "Why...yes, why didn't I think of it sooner? Inquisitor..." He turned back around. "What would you say to a cup of plum wine? It's prime vintage, according to the Royan who sold it to me. Just a sampling, see if you like it..."

Ahnnie tilted her head and pursed her lips in thought. "Sure, why not?"

Osbert nodded vigorously and set off less absentmindedly than before. When he was gone, Ahnnie looked quizzically in the direction of the murmur. Almost instantly, Cole's sullen eyes met hers between Snipe and Grim. "It makes him happy when I suggest something fancier to the guests," he explained, startling the two Chargers in the process. "But usually, just to the guests. This is the first I've tried on him; either way, he doesn't know."

The others at the table gave Cole suspicious, but otherwise nonchalant, glances. Ahnnie wondered if they knew anything of Cole's controversy before giving the bedraggled young man a smile. "What matters is that it helps," she quipped.

" _I_ showed him how to do that," Netta boasted. "Because he wasn't being very good at helping. Did you know he once put old plums on the windowsills? Bugs crawled _every_ where!"

Ahnnie frowned and raised an eyebrow at Cole.

"Spiders need to eat too," he protested.

She could practically feel the curious glances grow in intensity from those around them. "Well, we can't help everyone, can we?" Seeking to change the subject, Ahnnie scooted herself closer to Netta to make more room on the bench. "C'mon Cole, have a seat." When he hesitated, she waved insistently at the empty spot. "It's been a while; we need to catch up!"

Cole slowly rounded the table's edge and approached the bench with trepidation, as if uncertain of her intent. Eventually she convinced him to lower himself onto it, and after he sat down, she was acutely aware of how close they had become.  _The seating's a little squished, isn't it?_ Her eyes flitted past Cole to Stitches.  _He should_ _make more room. This is..._

"...kind of uncomfortable. My thigh's touching his. If I turn around, it'll be our noses," he murmured, causing her cheeks to burn a bright red.

"Wh-what are you talking about?" she spluttered. "Don't you, uh, want to order anything? Wait, have you met the Chargers yet?" she quickly asked, gesturing at the people around them.

Cole stared blankly at Snipe and Skinner in turn. "He tried to pellet me with stones, and she almost stabbed me once."

"I don't like creepy shems," Skinner stated flatly.

The Iron Bull smirked in amusement. "C'mon, kids, play nice – any friend of the Inquisitor's a friend of ours."

"But that's where we ought to draw the line, chief," Krem interjected, mouth splitting into a mischievous grin. "Might get a little messy if they're...more."

Stitches snickered and Rocky cackled with glee, much to Ahnnie's distress. "More?" she echoed dumbly.

"I don't know what it's like where you're from," Stitches began, "but around here, friends don't whisper sweet nothings into each other's ears."

Even Skinner's mouth turned up at that, and Snipe barely hid his chortles. "Sweet noth–" Ahnnie choked. "What!?"

"What else were you blushing about, eh?" Krem suggested with a wink.

"N-no," she stuttered, "that's not what he was, we were just, it was–"

"All right, all right," Iron Bull interrupted. "Cut her some slack, boys...we can all gossip about her sex life later."

Netta looked curiously from Bull to Ahnnie. "Sex? What's–"

Ahnnie slapped a hand over the child's mouth. "It's nothing! Absolutely nothing."

Netta's round eyes flickered upwards from the sudden hand to Ahnnie's chin. "Like those nothings he's whispered in your ear?" her muffled voice asked through the fingers. "Were they really sweet?"

Laughter yet again rumbled around the table. "Hey, straight to the point! I like this kid!" Iron Bull raised his mug. "You want anything to eat, kid? My treat."

Netta squirmed out of Ahnnie's mortified hold and craned her head towards the table to get a better look at Bull. "I would like a fruit tart," she replied after some thought. "Could I touch your horns, too? Are they real? I've never seen anyone with horns before."

"Sure, why not? C'mon over here."

And just like that, Netta slid away to take up position as the Iron Bull's guest of honor. Feeling slightly betrayed, yet freed for the time being of mockery, Ahnnie let out a deep sigh and smiled apologetically at Cole. "They're, uh...real fun, as you can see."

"It's embarrassing for you," Cole said, "but it's how they show love."

"I guess."

"It also means you're fun to taunt."

She opened her mouth to form a protest, but soon gave up and shook her head in mock exasperation. "I figured as much."

Osbert finally came round with the drinks, giving Krem and Skinner reason to stay quiet for a while as they set to work on losing their sobriety. As for Ahnnie, he placed before her a dainty glass tumbler filled two-thirds of the way with a light amber liquid, followed by a bowl of piping hot venison stew. "Let me know if it's not to your liking," he said as he pulled the tray away.

Ahnnie tested the stew with a careful sip. "It's perfect," she assured him, and the happy innkeep went to take Bull's newest order looking as though he'd won the lottery. After swallowing a second taste, Ahnnie let down her spoon and turned to the tumbler.  _I wonder if it will taste anything like spiced wine?_

She took hold of it in one hand and gently raised it to her lips, closing her eyes as the heady fumes tingled her nostrils in a stinging, but pleasant, way. The fruity essence of plum, fermented to intoxicating perfection with  _just_  the right amount of fiery bite, hit her tongue in an aromatic wave. Sweet, rich, and subtly spicy, it was so much more exciting than ale and appreciably less intense than spiced wine or whisky.

Ahnnie found herself letting out an audible sigh of satisfaction as the cup parted from her lips. She looked up and met Cole's expectant eyes with an impressed nod. "You're really good at...well, this." She gestured at the tumbler. "Business must be good with you here."

Cole blinked. "Do you think so?"

"Well...yeah!" she nodded. "The restaura– er, tavern business relies a lot on repeat customers, and if you're able to suggest them things they'll like, it'll make them want to come back."  _I know I do,_ Ahnnie thought, swirling the wine in her tumbler appreciatively.  _Then again, this is literally the only tavern for miles around...no complaints here, though._

Cole looked down, hiding his face beneath the wide brim of his hat. "Thank you," he murmured a short while later, so quietly that Ahnnie almost failed to notice.

She wondered at first if she had somehow offended him. It took a moment to register his sudden shyness.  _Awww!_  she almost wanted to gush out loud.  _He's being bashful!_

It was hard to believe, but he was actually being cute for once _._  As Ahnnie fought the urge to peer beneath Cole's hat, Madame Vivienne's analogy of the young man to a puppy suddenly became more relevant. So much so that it took her aback; mysterious, yes, and creepy at times, with a touch of endearing, but "cute" was now a new adjective she suddenly found fitting to describe him.

"Must be the wine," she murmured through the tumbler, taking a fresh sip to conceal the warmth already spreading on her cheeks.

The tinkling of lute strings in the beginnings of a song carried over from across the tap room, and Ahnnie remembered the new song that Maryden had wanted to play. She perked up in the bard's direction and saw her dark-haired head bent studiously over the lute. The steady tune was nice and relaxing, though unlike Maryden's usual repertoire, it carried within it a somber tone.

" _A soldier, a savior; a_ _hero, a leader,_ _Inquisitor fought for our souls..._ "

Krem looked about the table as the song's nature grew more obvious, leading the Chargers into a chorus of amused "oohs". "To the Inquisitor!" he exclaimed with a raise of his mug, and the Chargers readily complied, accompanied by Netta's little voice and those of several neighboring tables. Ahnnie smiled sheepishly and turned back to her wine, the liquid contortions of the table through the glass suddenly made more interesting.

" _A battle, a breach,_

_The one we beseeched,_

_To protect our lives and our homes..._

 

_Now how do we follow?_

_The battle is all but won._

_Peace can't last forever;_

_Guard us from what's to come._ "

"It's all right," Cole whispered. "You needn't be afraid. They do this because they like you."

Ahnnie looked up at him. "I-I know," she whispered back, "but, it's just...I just haven't gotten used to it."

" _Inquisitor, take your breath..._ "

She sighed at the irony and leaned on an elbow as she decided to continue eating, keeping her head down all the while.

"You probably won't," Cole conceded. "But you'll never be lonely. It's better than what you had to go through."

" _A soldier, a savior;_

 _a_ _hero, a leader,_

 _Inquisitor fought for our souls..._ "

"I guess that counts for something," Ahnnie said with a shrug. In thinking of what she had to go through, however, her mind wandered back to the Breach, to the life she'd sealed along with it... _If only I didn't have to lose everything I liked from before,_ she thought, and quickly shut it down before it could go any further.  _Focus on this,_ she reminded herself, anchoring down in Maryden's lyrics;  _this is the reality now. This is all that matters._

She didn't have to go far, anyway; as the song plucked into another chorus, a sturdy hand suddenly clapped on her shoulder. Ahnnie whirled around and saw that it was Varric. She stood up to greet him then and had her mouth formed in a "Hello", when she noticed the graveness of his expression.

"Come with me," the dwarf instructed under his breath. "Hawke's here."

* * *

 

"Didya really have to bring those books?"

"I wouldn't trust them with the Chargers any day of the week. They used them to play catch when I was there...I don't want to think of what'll happen when I'm  _not_ there."

Varric frowned at the tomes in her arms before conceding with a slow nod. "Fair enough. But put 'em down somewhere. Those things look heavy."

Ahnnie looked about the battlements and decided on the flat edge of the balustrade. "Sooo," she began as she set the books down, "is he going to take a while? Or is this..."

But Varric was too distracted with watching their surroundings and appeared not to have heard. She decided to drop the matter and leaned against the balustrade, opening up the Inquisition history book to pass the time. Despite that, she couldn't help but feel the shock and surprise that had surged through her the moment Varric first uttered the name–

Hawke.  _The_ Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, subject of books and ballads – or at least, what fanciful tales Varric had told her of him – still, she had heard other Thedosians utter his name, and when they spoke it, it was in terms of a legend. Among many of his exploits, he was critical in repelling Qunari invaders some seven years back and received the title of Champion from the then-Knight Commander of Kirkwall.  _Less than a decade, and he's already known all over Thedas_ – yet his supposed encounter with Corypheus was...new, to say the least.

Common knowledge dictated that he mysteriously disappeared after the Battle of Kirkwall. Quite understandable, given the circumstances. But no one knew where he was, or even if he'd died. Varric always made it a point to tell her in his stories that Hawke had gone missing; now he was suddenly reachable through raven and coming to meet her at any moment?  _And_  he was the "friend" that had advice to give on Corypheus?

Had Varric's mannerisms not been so serious, Ahnnie would have taken the entire thing for an elaborate prank.

"Ah, there you are," Varric exclaimed, breaking the girl from her thoughts. "I thought you'd never come. Inquisitor, meet Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall."

"Though, I don't use that title much anymore," a deep voice interjected, and Ahnnie turned from the balustrade to find that it belonged to a gruff-looking man in his late thirties to mid forties. She didn't know what she'd expected, but she didn't envision the Champion of Kirkwall looking so tousled, with an unkempt mess of black hair and beard, and neither had she imagined him looking so...tired. She supposed that was to be expected, given the circumstances of their meeting, but he seemed to carry more than the weight of regular fatigue beneath his eyes. One thing she certainly recognized, however, was the bright red smear of paint slashed across his nose bridge; his character trademark.

"Hawke, the Inquisitor," Varric introduced.

"And so we are," Hawke groused. "She understands Common?"

"Of course. She's foreign, but not  _that_ foreign." Varric smiled at him. "I doubt this bears repeating, but I figured you might have some friendly advice about Corypheus. You and I did fight him, after all."

 _Wait, what?_ Ahnnie looked accusingly at Varric, but the dwarf had ambled away to another side of the battlement by then, leaving her and Hawke to themselves.

"Mm," Hawke grunted, giving the girl a passing glance before heading for the balustrade. She looked from Varric to Hawke before deciding to follow Hawke, approaching his back with more than a little trepidation.

"O-oh, let me move those," Ahnnie stuttered when Hawke leaned against the stone, his elbow mere centimeters away from her books' spines. She slid them aside carefully, froze as second thoughts developed on whether or not it seemed rude, then sheepishly settled back from the balustrade with her hands clasped behind her back.

Hawke regarded the books and her jerky movements with an inscrutable eye. She fought back a gulp, creeping shame prickling against her neck at the thought of his first impression being that of incompetence. "You want my advice?" he asked at last, voice ringing harshly. "Did you hear what happened to Kirkwall? My  _advice_ nearly tore that city apart."

"I..." She cleared her throat. "I've heard. It's...well, it was tough, but you did the best you could in an impossible situation, and...people were going to die either way..."

Hawke snorted dryly. "Very encouraging."

"Ah, I didn't mean to..." She stopped, took a deep breath, and said, "I guess I should have said that, had it been anyone else, they would have broken down. But you saw it through, and it wasn't the best outcome, but I mean, could there really have been an ideal outcome? No one can do everything at once, and–"

He held up a hand of interruption. "Fair enough. I'll tell you whatever you think will help. But just so you know, you've already dropped half a mountain on the bastard. I'm sure anything I can tell you pales in comparison."

"He escaped anyway," Ahnnie pointed out, "and I didn't do it on my own. If it wasn't for all of Haven..."

"You've already sealed the Breach. At your age, that's damned impressive. _I_  could barely get my friends to stop fighting."

She shook her head. "Whatever you know helps. It doesn't matter what I've done – I need help, and Varric said you could give it. Why else are you here now in Skyhold?"

"All right, all right," Hawke sighed. "I'll tell you what I know...for whatever good it does."

A weighty silence fell between them, and Ahnnie wondered whether Hawke planned to renege on his promise. Their conversation didn't have the smoothest of starts, after all. But perhaps he was gathering his thoughts? Or was he waiting on her to start asking?  _First thing I'd like to know, is how on earth he and Varric encountered Corypheus..._

Just as she decided to open her mouth, Hawke finally opened his. "This view reminds me of my home in Kirkwall," he remarked. "I had a balcony that overlooked the whole city. I loved it at first, but after a while, all I could see were the people out there depending on me."

She looked from him to the courtyard below, watching the tiny people move about in their daily goings-on. "I can relate," she confessed. "I've tried not to think about it much, but it kind of scares me when I do. I just tell myself that this is as much for me as it is for them." She bit down on her bottom lip and turned to Hawke. "Does...does it ever get any easier?"

He glanced at her from the corner of his eye and shrugged. "I'll let you know."

"Oh, okay..." Ahnnie stretched her arms and brought them back in front to cross them. "So, uh...Varric said that you guys fought Corypheus before..."

Hawke straightened himself with a grunt and stood face-to-face with her. "Fought and killed," he supplied. "The Grey Wardens were holding him, and he somehow used their connection to the darkspawn to influence them."

"Corypheus got into their heads," Varric added as he paced by. "Messed with their minds. Turned them against each other."

"Grey Wardens..." Ahnnie frowned. "Does that have anything to do with their disappearance?"

"They could have fallen under his control again," Hawke guessed.

An army of Venatori, Red Templars, a dragon, and now Grey Wardens? That didn't sound good. _Lucky for us,_ _Blackwall wasn't affected_. "If that's so, do you think we can free them? Is it reversible?"

"It's possible, but we need to know more first."

"I see..." She frowned again. "But wait...if you guys already killed Corypheus...how is he still alive?"

Hawke raised an eyebrow and turned to Varric. "You didn't tell her?"

"Didn't think to," Varric shot back. "It wasn't important at the time."

"Great Maker, you had up until my arrival to..."

"Better that she hears from you now. Am I right?"

Hawke sighed. "I'll try to make this quick, then," he muttered, and turned back to Ahnnie. "The Grey Wardens used my father's blood some time before the Fifth Blight in a ritual to seal him deep in the Vimmark Mountains. But he could still reach out and influence their thoughts, so he sent them after me. He needed my blood to break his seals."

"And...you broke them?" Ahnnie asked.

"Had to, if I wanted to escape. One thing led to another, we fought, I killed him...and I didn't just  _think_ I killed him," Hawke insisted, his expression growing frustrated. "When the fight was done, he was dead on the ground. Maybe his tie to the Blight somehow brought him back, or maybe it's old Tevinter magic...but he  _was_ dead. I swear it."

As Ahnnie processed his words, she couldn't help but feel an ever-sinking weight lowering into the pit of her stomach.  _How could Varric not think this important? He could have said something when Leliana started looking into the Wardens' disappearance!_ It never occurred to her until now just how much the silver-tongued dwarf was potentially keeping to himself. Suddenly, she wondered what the specific details of his original imprisonment were.

But that was for another time. "What do we do, then?" she asked Hawke, helplessly.

"I didn't come this far to give you bad news," he reassured her. "I've got a friend in the Wardens. He was investigating something unrelated for me. His name is Stroud; the last time we spoke, he was worried about corruption in the Warden ranks. Since then, nothing."

"Corypheus would certainly qualify as corruption in the ranks," Varric remarked, halting in between them. "Did your friend disappear with them?"

"No. He told me he'd be hiding in an old smuggler's cave near Crestwood."

Okay, that was a start. "We'll arrange to meet your friend, then," Ahnnie said with a nod. "But what were you investigating, if I may ask?"

"The Templars at Kirkwall were using a strange form of lyrium," Hawke obliged. "It was red. I'd hoped the Wardens could tell me more about it."

Ahnnie's eyes widened. "That's exactly what Corypheus' templars were using!"

"Is it now?" Hawke rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Interesting. Hopefully, Stroud will know more." After some contemplation, he dropped his hand back to his side. "That's about all I can tell you at the moment. You want anything else, go to Crestwood."

Though she wished he could have provided more, the given information, however small, was good enough. "I'll take whatever lead I can get," she readily affirmed. "Thank you for coming; I needed this more than you'll ever know."

Hawke nodded. "Of course. Corypheus was my responsibility; I thought I'd killed him before. This time...I'll make sure of it."

She was surprised to hear such conviction in his voice, considering how he seemed earlier; then she realized his initial reluctance was not so much unwillingness to disclose, as it was uncertainty in his helpfulness. He seemed less formidable then as she watched him retreat from the battlements, leaving them with little more than a brusque farewell before making his secret departure.

"I should tell the advisors," Ahnnie said as she picked up her books again. "We need to leave for Crestwood as soon as possible–"

"Give it several days," Varric cut her off, and met her accusatory look with an apology. "Look, I want to get this over with as much as you do. But I'm respecting Hawke's wishes here. He doesn't want our forces on his tail. After a lifetime of fame, he just wants his privacy."

The girl opened her mouth to protest, before realizing that she would have wanted the same. "All right," she relented. "But three days...three days is all I'm waiting."

"Three days is plenty enough," Varric agreed with a grin.

* * *

 

Three days felt like eternal torture. They went by in such agonizingly slow speed, the urgency of what she now knew growing with every passing minute, yet the obligation of waiting to disclose it barring her from any action. It was so much so that Ahnnie couldn't find the courage to confide in Solas, even when she couldn't seem to focus during another magic practice session in the woods – and she normally would have spilled the beans to him gladly.

When the days were finally up, Josephine's office in the war room antechamber was literally the first place she sent herself to straight after awakening. It was an open-concept space tucked to the side of the room, directly visible upon entering and only encumbered by a small indentation of steps.

All was perfectly still as Ahnnie stepped into the office proper. Dust motes floated in the rays of sunlight emanating from the windows, and the hearth was freshly swept; everything had the essence of a fresh morning about it. Perhaps she had come a little  _too_ early, for not even Josephine herself was anywhere in sight. But something caught the girl's eye before she could even dwell on the matter, a little splash of color against the prim ambassador's otherwise bare desk.

 _So Josephine put up some flowers,_ Ahnnie remarked, stepping up to the desk to admire the vibrant blossoms.  _About time; there's never anything else on it besides paper and more paper._ She smiled at the quaint little pot they were situated in, thinking the variance from Josephine's refined classiness a welcome change.  _I wonder who she got them from? I've only ever seen these out in the woods with Solas..._

The door to the war room corridor opened just then and Ahnnie looked up to find Josephine emerging with papers in hand. "Inquisitor!" the ambassador gasped. "I did not expect to see you so early. What brings you?"

"I had something important I wanted to discuss with all the advisors," Ahnnie replied. "In fact, I think we should call together a council."

"Ah, yes, very good point!" Josephine's heels clacked against the stone as she strode for her desk. "I was thinking just the same thing!"

"You were?" Ahnnie asked confusedly, wondering how Josephine could have known what she wanted to say already.

"Why, of course, Inquisitor, I–" She paused at the desk upon noticing the flowers, her face lighting up in surprise for the briefest of seconds. It quickly melted into a pleasant smile, a smile which noticeably stuck as she slid into her upholstered chair. "As I was going to say, I've been working on something important that I think we should act on as soon as possible."

 _So these were a surprise?_ Ahnnie wondered, looking at the flowers again.  _Oooh...does Josephine have a suitor?_ But she had more important things to worry about than the ambassador's love life. "How important are we talking?

" _Very_ important. It concerns the future of Orlais."

Ahnnie wondered how she would fit Hawke into it all, but decided to let Josephine have her say first. "Go on."

"I've made some inquiries into the Imperial Court," the ambassador explained. "The sooner we deal with the threats to the Empress, the better. The political situation in the Empire is dangerously unstable; it will complicate matters. As you know, the Empress is in the middle of a civil war..."

"Right, the thing about her cousin," Ahnnie remembered.

"Yes, Grand Duke Gaspard," Josephine clarified. "Leliana reports that a group of elves has been sabotaging both armies, drawing out the hostilities. Orlais holds Tevinter at bay; all of Thedas could be lost if the Empire falls to Corypheus. To that end, Celine is holding peace talks under the auspices of a grand masquerade. Every power in Orlais will be there."

Ahnnie frowned. "That's good, isn't it?"

"It's the perfect place for an assassin to hide."

"Oh." Now she felt stupid. "All right then...I take it to mean we need to be at this masquerade?"

"We don't have enough sway with the Court to arrange an invitation.  _Yet._ " Josephine shuffled the papers before laying them flat on her desk and dipped a pen into an inkwell. "I am working closely with Madame Vivienne on the matter; see who we can curry favor with, or, who will want to curry favor with  _us_. While we  _could_ arrive at the masquerade under the Madame or even Duke Bastien's support, it would be beneficial to have more than one Orlesian power backing us."

"Is there something from the Grand Game that I'm missing?" Ahnnie asked. "Why all the trouble?"

"As a fairly new organization, we wouldn't want to appear too much as though we are riding on the coattails of an influential member," Josephine explained. "We want to show that we can attract the endorsement of others rather than rely on one person. If we successfully present that image, naturally more people will follow. You get the gist."

 _I'll never understand these Orlesian intrigues,_ Ahnnie bemoaned to herself. "Anyway," she began, sweeping the Empire aside, "I wanted to talk about something else entirely..."

"Yes?" Josephine asked, all ears.

Another set of footsteps opened up behind Ahnnie, and she turned her head back to find that Cassandra had entered the office. "Perfect!" the girl exclaimed. "You're just in time, Cassandra. You'll want to hear this, too."

The Seeker looked from ambassador to Inquisitor. "Indeed?" she asked as she stopped at the desk. "And what is it?"

Ahnnie's face beamed with excitement as she addressed the two women. "We finally have something new on Corypheus. I met with Varric's friend three days ago–"

"Three days ago?" Cassandra echoed. "Why did you not tell us then?"

She tried not to let the sting of reproach affect her too badly. "Well, his friend wanted me to wait. You know how Varric was about meeting privately and everything. Anyway...so, it turns out that he's fought Corypheus before, and that Corypheus used to be imprisoned by Grey Wardens, but he affected their minds and made them, well, not themselves; also, there's a Warden named Stroud with more information hiding out in Crestwood, who we'll need to go meet...Okay, my mind is all over the place at the moment," Ahnnie admitted, "so we'll probably need to gather a council to discuss it in more detail. But get this; the guy that I met with three days ago was  _Hawke_! The Champion of Kirkwall!"

Josephine's eyes widened and her mouth fell agape. She fearfully turned towards the Seeker, whose face was absolutely seething.

Ahnnie followed Josephine's gaze and blinked at the unexpected reaction. "C-Cassandra?" she asked timidly. "Is...something wrong?"

Everything went quiet for several seconds. " _Hawke_ ," the Seeker eventually ground out, head bobbing in a slow, deliberate nod. "So it was  _Hawke._ Varric has much to answer for."

"Now, Lady Cassandra," Josephine spluttered, but the enraged Seeker stormed out of the office just as Josephine was rising from her chair. "Oh dear," the ambassador muttered as she sank back down. "This is not good..."

Ahnnie stared confusedly after the angry woman's figure, a looming sense of dread creeping slowly through her chest.  _What have I done?_ she wondered, and ran after Cassandra before she could lose sight of her.

* * *

 

"Seeker – Seeker Cassandra?" Ahnnie panted to a bewildered Inquisition soldier as she stopped to catch her breath.

"She went that way, Lady Inquisitor," the soldier answered, pointing to a wooden structure across the courtyard. "Is everything all right?"

Ahnnie waved the matter away. "It's – it's okay! I just needed to know. Thanks!" As soon as she spoke the last word, she straightened back up and ran for the appointed direction.

"You're...welcome?”

Ahnnie burst through the door without a moment's hesitation and paused for more breath when she saw no one present. Then a clatter sounded from the loft above and her feet moved automatically up a pair of rickety stairs to her left.

"You _knew_  where Hawke was all along!" Cassandra's angry shout echoed, pumping more fear and adrenaline through the girl's veins as she stomped up the steps.

"You're damned right I did!" Varric retorted. Another loud clatter followed.

"You conniving little  _shit_!"

Ahnnie stumbled on the landing in time to find Cassandra's arm mid-swing in a punch for Varric's face. The dwarf dodged it nimbly and slipped away to the other side of the loft. "You  _kidnapped_ me!" he shot back. "You interrogated me! What did you expect?"

"You-"

"Guys!" Ahnnie shouted breathlessly as she jumped in between them. "Enough!" When they flinched instinctively in her direction, she held out her arms, for fear of them lunging at each other again.

Cassandra's eyes narrowed at the girl. "You're taking  _his_ side?" she demanded incredulously.

"N-no," Ahnnie stuttered, looking back and forth at them both, "I just...I just want you guys to stop fighting!"

The desperate crack in her voice must have had an effect, for the dwarf and Seeker relaxed their stances and the dangerous tension dropped from the air; but only some of it.

"We needed someone to lead this Inquisition," Cassandra seethed, pacing to and fro on her side of the loft. "First, Leliana and I searched for the Hero of Ferelden, but she had vanished.  _Then_ , we looked for Hawke, but he was gone too. We thought it all connected...but no." Her sharp eyes zeroed in on Varric. "It was just  _you._ You kept him from us!"

The truth began dawning on Ahnnie at that moment.  _Hawke was the reason Varric was being held prisoner in the first place..._

"The Inquisition  _has_ a leader!" Varric protested, gesturing tersely at Ahnnie.

"But she was _not_  the best choice!"

Ahnnie flinched as though struck, and her arms fell back limply. Time seemed to hold still in that moment, the words echoing over and over again in her mind. She only realized she was staring dumbfounded at Cassandra when the Seeker tore herself away from the girl's widened eyes.

"Hawke would have been at the Conclave," Cassandra went on. "If  _anyone_ could have saved the Most Holy..."

"I was protecting my friend," Varric argued.

"You are a liar; a snake," she hissed. "Even after the Conclave, when we needed Hawke most, you kept him secret."

Varric held out his arms in exasperation. "He's with us now! We're on the same side!"

"We all know whose side you're on,  _Varric,_ " Cassandra spat. "And it will never be the Inquisition's."

Ahnnie shook herself back to reality, remembering that she had a situation to diffuse. "Please! Cassandra, I know you're upset...but attacking him now won't help anything."

"Ha! Exactly!" Varric chimed triumphantly.

"But also, Varric..." She turned to the dwarf. "If there's anything else useful that you know, you shouldn't keep it from us."

The smugness wavered from his face the moment he caught onto the look in her eyes. "I understand," he sighed.

As the tension subsided, a fragile quiet overcame the loft. Cassandra turned away from Ahnnie yet again and plopped down on an old stool by a window; Varric paced about his side of the loft, muttering lowly to himself. In between them, Ahnnie stood rooted to the same spot, looking at each of her companions in turn and wondering where she went wrong.

An exhausted sigh escaped the Seeker, breaking the silence. "I must not think of what could have been," she murmured. "We have so much at stake. Go, Varric. Just...go."

Varric perked up at the mention of his name and turned to leave. He nodded for Ahnnie to follow, and she would have loved to, but another look at Cassandra's forlorn back led her to refuse his invitation with a sad shake of her head. He shrugged and headed for the stairs, but paused briefly on the landing. "You know what I think?" he suddenly asked. "If Hawke had been at the Temple, he'd be dead too." His face hardened. " _You people_  have done enough to him."

"Varric," Ahnnie gasped, but the dwarf ignored her and was down the stairs before she could say anything else. She sighed and backed away from the landing. "I'm sure he didn't mean it..." 

"I...believed him," Cassandra began. "He spun his story for me, and I swallowed it. If I'd  _just_  explained what was at stake...if I'd just made him understand..." She swallowed. "But I didn't, didn't I? I didn't explain why we needed Hawke...I am such a fool."

Ahnnie found another old stool and carried it over to Cassandra. She sat down on it across from the woman and folded her hands in her lap. "But what if you  _didn't_  believe him?" she challenged. "What if you'd tracked Hawke down instead? What would have happened?"

Cassandra finally turned to look at the girl and shook her head. "This is...you knew nothing of this until recently, didn't you? I'm sorry...I didn't mean..."

"Well?" Ahnnie tilted her head questioningly.

Cassandra's face twisted in conflict. "Honestly, Hawke might not even have agreed to become Inquisitor," she admitted at last. "He supported the mage rebellion, after all. He wouldn't have trusted me for a second. But this isn't about Hawke, or even Varric. Not truly." She ran a hand through her short hair and shook her head. "I should have been more careful. I should have been smarter – I don't deserve to be here."

Ahnnie drummed her fingers against her knee in thought. "Well...neither do I. And I don't mean that sarcastically," she quickly added. "I mean...have you  _seen_ our Inquisition? We're all fools, here, Cassandra. Fools who think they can save Thedas with a moldy old book and a crumbling fortress. Hell, you chose  _me_  of all people to run it, so...what do I know?"

A strangled laugh escaped the Seeker's throat. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

Ahnnie shrugged. "More at home, actually."

Cassandra chortled again and took a deep breath to steady herself. "I want you to know," she said as she exhaled, "that I have no regrets. Maybe if we'd found Hawke or the Hero of Ferelden, the Maker wouldn't have needed to send you. But He did. You're...not what I'd pictured. But if I've learned anything, it's that I know less than nothing." She rose from the stool and pat the girl warmly on the shoulder. "Go now. You've better things to do than listen to an old Seeker's ravings."

Ahnnie followed suit and tapped Cassandra's hand lightly. "Anytime, Cassandra. Anytime."

She left the building first, walking carefully down the old wooden steps, and reemerged into the sunny courtyard with a lighter feeling in her step. After asking another passerby for the direction of Varric's path, she found him brooding to himself on a large boulder near the training grounds. Ahnnie pursed her lips as she came close, taking note of the troubled expression etched on his features. "Hey," she greeted. "So, um...Cassandra's calmed down, now."

"Define 'calmed down' for me in terms of who or what she's punching right now," he said, voice quavering.

Ahnnie blinked, taken aback by the dwarf's shaken countenance. "Um...no one?"

"Really?" Varric scoffed. "That's a first."

"Well..." She pursed her lips again. "You  _did_ kinda keep some secrets from us..."

"I wasn't  _trying_ to keep secrets," he protested. "I told the Inquisition everything that seemed important...at the time." He shook his head. "I know how that sounds, but you gotta believe me...I didn't think Corypheus was connected to anything until he showed up at Haven. I thought he was dead. Nothing we saw at the summit made me think he'd been there."

She had a retort formed at the back of her mouth, but swallowed it down after some thought. _I suppose he's right..._ Varric had gone through too much with them by now to have done any of it on purpose. Whatever he _did_  purposefully keep secret, it was all to abide by Hawke's wishes.

"I'm sorry," Ahnnie apologized at last. "That makes more sense. I thought you meant to keep quiet at first, but I was too focused on being upset to really think about what you'd experienced..."

"Ah, that's..." Varric trailed off and waved it away. "I keep hoping, you know, that none of this is real. Maybe it's all some bullshit from the Fade, and it'll just disappear if I close my eyes."

"Same," Ahnnie murmured.

"Probably sucks the most for you," he remarked. "Perfectly wonderful and peaceful life, then  _boom_ ; stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of monsters and Chantry clerics wanting to kill you."

"That's..."

Varric frowned. "Come to think of it, what  _was_ your life like, specifically? I mean, I know about Earth and how it's different from Thedas, but what were  _you_ like?"

She was speechless for several seconds, gesturing and shrugging in a futile effort to find the words. "Well...I was...me? Life before was pretty plain, really."

"But you've changed.  _This_ has all changed you," he said, gesturing at their surroundings. "And for better or for worse?"

"Oh...like...do I wish it never happened?" Ahnnie shrugged again. "I don't...know. What about you?"

He let out a dry cackle. "Ah, you know me. If I could've rewritten a few things, I would've. And I'd make it pretty exciting, too. Though I suppose you could say I've had my fair share of excitement already."

Ahnnie couldn't help but crack a smile. "From what I've heard, it's practically straight out of an adventure novel. I wonder how much of it is true and how much is just embellishment?"

They both shared a much needed laugh at that. It was refreshing to be in good spirits again, just like old times. "Cassandra probably regrets how things went back there," she remarked after her last chuckle. "You should go talk to her."

Varric smiled sympathetically at her as he slid off the boulder. "I appreciate your trying to keep the peace, kiddo, but things between me and the Seeker are as good as they'll get." Then he paused, rough eyes softening with remorse. "And...I know I need to do better. I'm sorry."

"It's okay, Varric," Ahnnie reassured him. "I do, too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Added to the Asian explanation in Chapter 3 of Book One for accuracy & better flow. Also made Ahnnie ask Varric why he was a prisoner in Chapter 5; I left that unaddressed whereas Ahnnie would have said something. Edited her horseback lessons to start in a round pen before hitting the trails, as it is not a good idea to do so otherwise. Finally, fixed her dialogue with Cole in Chapter 5 of this book cuz I thought she sounded too mean to him.
> 
> As to why Ahnnie considers her name to start with 'A' rather than 'D' – Diễm is actually her middle name, and in Vietnamese, middle & first names are often linked so it's not unusual for someone to introduce themselves with both but then be addressed after the fact by the first one. While her name's arrangement in English should be Anh Diễm, she keeps the original because the reverse sounds awkward. Fun fact: girls who have 'Anh' as their first name tend to use both names all the time because calling them by 'Anh' alone sounds too much like the pronoun for older brother-aged male.


	9. Crestwood

The late spring warmth carried on the gentle wind, whisking merrily through the tangled manes and tails of the horses assembled by the gates. As they stomped impatiently at the flies encircling their feet, the rider of the head steed swiveled in his saddle to address a tall and proud Templar standing by his flank.

"I will be gone awhile with the Inquisitor," said he. "I trust you to oversee the troops in my absence, Knight-Commander Derlin."

"You have my word, Commander Cullen," Derlin Barris affirmed with a reverent bow of his head. "You shall find Skyhold in the same order as you left it."

A friendly pat graced the new Knight-Commander's shoulder and the two men shared a smile of camaraderie. Those were the only formalities exchanged before Derlin stepped back to watch the party leave.

Cullen spurred his horse for the bridge and the rest followed obediently. As they clip-clopped away from the walls of the stately fortress, Ahnnie stole a look back at the battlements to find what appeared to be Cassandra's profile watching their departure. She turned back around in her saddle and spied Varric's stout frame on his pony a little ways ahead, a nostalgic sadness overcoming her as she thought of the original quartet being incomplete this time around.

"They will make up," Solas assured her when he saw her troubled gaze. "Simply give it time, da'len."

"I guess," she murmured, and returned her focus on their journey to Crestwood.

* * *

 

"Refreshing, isn't it?" Evelyn breathed in and out. "The vast mountains around us, the endless blue sky above..."

Ahnnie snorted. "You're just glad to be out and about, aren't you?"

Evelyn rolled her eyes playfully. "As if you can't say the same?"

They shared a laugh and spurred their horses on to catch up with the others. The weather was certainly agreeing with them, and was the most pleasant Ahnnie had ever seen this side of the Frostbacks. She thought at first that it'd be difficult getting acclimated to traveling through the mountains again, but was soon reminded that the harrowing winter and this genial spring were as different as fire and water. Besides which, she got to travel with  _Evelyn_ ; what more could she want out of this fine day?

They dashed past the Iron Bull's nuggalope plodding good-naturedly along the path and slowed back to a walk as they came within a horse's breadth of Dorian's finicky palomino. But Evelyn's mount strayed a hair too close to the Tevinter mage's steed, and his horse's rear leg kicked out a split second later.

Her horse jerked its head and snorted irritably as it veered away from the leg. Dorian heard the commotion and gave the young women behind him warning glances. "I shouldn't have to remind you that it's a bad idea to get close to my rear."

"Not our fault you got stuck with the sourpuss," Ahnnie teased, urging her horse's flank closer to Evelyn's until they were practically stirrup to stirrup. "And it wasn't even  _that_  close." The two exchanged knowing smirks.

"Ha- _ha_ ," Dorian scoffed flatly, before being yanked back to attention as the palomino got sidetracked by a clump of long grass. "Not again!" he lamented. After successfully regaining the horse's head, he let out a huff of indignation and shook his own. Noticing the giggles coming from behind him, his smile turned wry. "Oh yes, let's all make fun of the one with the stubborn nag, never mind the hulking  _nuggalope_  right before us!"

"You leave Nuggy out of this!" Bull cried.

Evelyn's eyes widened in surprise. "'Nuggy'? How...cute!" she gushed amusedly.

"Who'd have thought a guy like Tiny could get so attached?" Varric wondered aloud.

"Huh? Tiny?" Ahnnie asked.

Bull rolled his eyes. "It's a nickname. Makes my naming conventions sound like flattery in comparison."

"Now, now," Dorian adomished, "just because  _you_ ended up with 'Tiny'..."

"Oh yeah,  _Sparkler_?" Bull shot back with a smirk. "But if it were up to me, I would've gone for Twinkle Toes."

Dorian sniffed. "At least it's not 'Tiny'," he mumbled in mock annoyance. "Or Curly." It took a while for the implication to set in, but it became obvious nonetheless when Dorian continued holding his gaze towards Commander Cullen's back. Surprisingly, the Commander acknowledged this with a noncommittal grunt.

Ahnnie looked about her companions as if seeing them for the first time. "Does  _everyone_ have a nickname?"

"About so," Varric confirmed. He eyed Solas pointedly and elbowed the elf in the arm. "Eh, Chuckles?"

Solas gave him a thin-lipped smile and barely glanced at the others as he answered, "Yes. Truly amazing."

Evelyn just about fell out of her saddle with laughter. Ahnnie couldn't help but join along, unfortunately for Solas.  _I mean, 'Chuckles'? That's the last thing I would have thought of!_

"Do I get to be part of the club?" Evelyn asked, wiping a tear from her eye. "What's my nickname?"

Varric rubbed his chin in thought. "You know, I've been thinking about that since we left Skyhold. Never saw you much, but it always stood out to me how you get dimples when you smile. So...Dimples."

"Mm, Dimples! I do like the sound of that," Evelyn mused.

"Glad to hear it," Varric said with a little head bow.

Ahnnie gripped her reins in an almost childish anticipation. "And me? Do I get a nickname? Or did I already have one?"

At this, Varric seemed to fall short. "In...quisitor?" he suggested weakly.

"But that's my title..."

He shrugged. "Your name already sounds like a nickname, so..."

"Because it is one?"

"Well, there you go."

"But you didn't think of it," she pouted. Varric only gave her another uncertain shrug in return, which rather disappointed her.

"Wait a second," he suddenly said. His eyes swept over the group and looked left and right. "Where's Kid?"

 _Hey! Isn't that what he used to call me?_ Or at least, the halved variant of it. It didn't take her long to connect the dots, though. "Cole? What..." She let out a gasp when she saw how far their last straggler was. "Oh! Cole!"

She pulled her horse back and rushed down their previous line of travel to rescue their overlooked party member. His mare was disagreeing with him by throwing her head every few steps; Ahnnie advised him to loosen the rein, and helped bring him back into the fold with gentle coaxing to his mount and some riding tips to him.

"First time on horseback?" she asked sympathetically.

"Not really," he confessed. "I just don't do it much."

"Don't worry," she smiled. "That's a part of why they don't listen; they can sense uncertainty. Just feel confident with them and they'll feel confident with you."

Evelyn cocked a brow at their exchange. "Interesting," she remarked. "I'd never known that mare to be a nuisance, even to beginners."

Ahnnie shrugged. "Well...everyone rides differently. Perhaps she just needs to get more used to Cole."

The Trevelyan nodded away in thought. "Of course," she agreed airily, but Ahnnie could still sense the distrust emanating from the look in her eyes. The previous conversation appeared to have stagnated the moment she went to retrieve Cole, so it wasn't just Evelyn who felt the same.

 _I'll be damned if Cole can't feel it as well,_ Ahnnie thought with a sigh.

That was perhaps the only thing that dampened the cheer of the journey for her. When she originally decided to bring the young man along, Cullen and Evelyn were the most vocal in their disapproval. Dorian appeared disturbed when he learned of Cole's mysterious origins, while the Iron Bull was oddly reserved about the matter; though with his Chargers away salvaging the ruins of Haven, he probably saw no reason to give any loud declaration of opinion. Ahnnie could only surmise that it ran in the same direction as the others, though, given what she knew of the Qun.

Only Solas and Varric received Cole cordially, for which Ahnnie was grateful. She was positive Cole could prove himself out in the field and felt more confident in her belief with the backing of two of her closest companions.

 _But in the meantime, it wouldn't hurt for him to improve impressions._ She couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt every time the others looked askance at him.

"How do you think I can do that?" Cole asked her, pensive.

It surprised her that they hadn't yet had this talk; the reasons for one were glaringly obvious, after all. But later was better than never. "Well...appearance is a start," she began. "Straighten your posture, for one. People find that confident. I remember when I had to correct mine..." Thinking back to Corporal Hargrave's first lessons made her involuntarily wince. "It's not an easy habit to break, but try relaxing your shoulders and puffing out your chest more. And then maybe, if you kept your hair out of your eyes..." She pondered this advice as she considered how he could make his eyes less sullen. "Nope, let's start with the hair. The eyes will follow."

Cole swiped a hand at his bangs, pushing them to one side. Either because it was a new look or wasn't particularly tasteful, Ahnnie shook her head at the change. "No, that's...not quite right..." She pursed her lips in thought before reaching for his hat. "Sorry, I hope you don't mind...but maybe if you hid less beneath this hat..."

She lifted it off to unveil a scraggly blonde nest in dire need of brushing. She mimicked the act of pushing back her hair and Cole repeated it tentatively, running his calloused fingers to the back of his head until the bangs no longer framed his face. When he let go, several strands re-released themselves about his forehead, but his face was otherwise unobstructed. And as Ahnnie saw it for the first time in full clarity, she felt more satisfied with the result.

"There we go," she smiled. "Much better."

Cole winced as a dapple of sunlight hit his eyes. "It's not very comfortable, but if you like it better..."

As their party crested round a bend by a pine tree, the sun fell more abundantly on Cole's features, softening the harshness of his complexion and crowning his head in a halo of golden light. Ahnnie did not realize she was staring until she remembered he was awaiting her response. "Oh, yeah," she murmured, suddenly interested in the pommel of her saddle. "Only if you want to, though. Being true to yourself is what matters most." Then she realized she was still hanging onto his hat and returned it with an embarrassed laugh. "Oops...here you go."

He replaced it on his head with a reassuring smile. "It's all right. I know you want to help."

And she supposed that she had, in a way, for he adjusted the hat carefully so as not to disturb his new hairstyle.

* * *

 

Cool water slid down Eveyln's throat as she took a much-needed swig from her waterskin, her lips releasing the mouthpiece several gulps later with a sigh of satisfaction. She wiped the stray droplets from her chin and screwed the cork back on, noting the weight of the swishing inside as she did so;  _not so bad. S_ _hould last me until we make camp for the night._

"Out of water, Lady Evelyn?" Commander Cullen's voice inquired, cutting through her thoughts. "I'll go fetch some more for you."

She looked up to find him approaching, having just dismounted from his horse as well. "How kind of you, Commander," she replied with a smile. "It's little more than half full, but I can fill it for myself later."

"Dorian found a spring just now. It's not but a stone's throw away," he insisted. "I'm going to refill mine anyways."

Evelyn tilted her head inquisitively. "Well...can't turn that down, now can we?" She handed him the waterskin. "Thank you."

"My pleasure," Cullen nodded, though judging by his stoic mask, it was difficult to tell whether or not it was indeed a pleasure.

 _Military men,_ Evelyn thought with a shake of her head. Beyond the little display of emotion before they left Skyhold, the Commander had been stony and authoritative in his conduct. It thus amazed her that a goofball like Maxwell had been able to join the Templar ranks; though she supposed if he hadn't, Father would have put him to far more boring use than he was accustomed to.  _He never did like the thought of becoming a 'Chantry lackey'._

Evelyn stretched her arms and paced about to shake off some saddle rigidity, twirling her ankles every few steps or so. She considered going over to make some conversation with Ahnnie, but the girl was occupied in a pleasant one herself with Solas and Cole.  _Ugh, n_ _ot him again..._ While Evelyn had no qualms about the hedge mage, unconventional though he was, Cole simply rubbed her the wrong way. A spirit that wasn't a spirit, yet a human that wasn't human? It bothered her more than a little that Ahnnie was getting so familiar with him.

There probably wasn't much time for small talk, anyway. The Commander came back, filled waterskins in hand, and after returning hers he barked for their group to remount in fifteen minutes. "I apologize for the short break time," he then said to her. "If you need a few more minutes, just let me know."

Evelyn blinked. "Ah, no. I'm fine," she assured him. "We've only been riding for half a day."

"If you're certain."

"I am."

"Very well; just let me know if the road gets rough later on, and we'll stop for another break. These paths can get quite rocky."

A fuming warmth rose to her cheeks as Evelyn listened to him speak.  _I don't see him asking any of the others the same thing. Not even Ahnnie, and she's the most inexperienced of us all._   _Just how delicate does he think I am?_  The waterskin became an uncomfortable weight on her belt as the implication set in. She'd assumed he understood by now that she wasn't expecting differential treatment based on birth; then again, they'd only met several times since that talk on the Magister's judgement day. Perhaps it was time to change that.

"You know, Commander," she began, "I didn't ask to come along if I didn't expect to face some hardships. You needn't worry about my...delicate sensibilities, for lack of a better word."

He raised an eyebrow. "All right."

"And I know what you're thinking," she continued. "A noble who's led a cloistered life in the Ostwick Circle; must have unusually high expectations about adventuring, no? But I know this is no romanticized adventure, trust me. And I can pull my own weight in a group..."

She'd expected him to show some form of acknowledgement towards her words; instead, his face was still the same blank canvas as it had been all day. She found her resolve faltering beneath such indifference, much to her humiliation. "In short," she huffed, "I hope you understand that I'm not here to dilly-dally. I expect – that is...I  _would like_  to be taken as seriously as the rest."

Cullen nodded. "Of course. My apologies, Lady Evelyn."

 _He apologized...!_ Great. Now she felt bad. "I wasn't looking for apologies," she hastily clarified. "I was just hoping to make my wishes clear."

"And I've heard them," he affirmed. "Rest assured." But though his tone held no innuendo, Evelyn thought she could see the corner of his mouth curving up ever-so-lightly as he turned away to tend to his horse.

 _The...the nerve of him! The gall!_ Never had any interaction left her so flabbergasted. Or at least, not outside her older brothers. The discomfort was as unwelcome as a needle in the saddle. She swallowed it down as best as she could, but as she rummaged through her saddlebags to double check the contents, she couldn't help replaying the scene over and over again in her mind.

Dorian, who'd been a quiet bystander not more than several yards away, looked curiously from the retreating Commander to Evelyn. "Too chivalrous for your taste?" he asked as he came close, and took a swig from his own newly filled skin.

"Quite," she replied. She closed the saddlebags and huffed. "I'm much too upset by this for my own good."

Dorian laughed. "I take it he's not handsome enough to let it slide? Or perhaps, too handsome?"

Evelyn gave him a sidelong glance and smirked. "You're not so bad yourself," she remarked, noting the gleam of his freshly washed face. "Now if only the Commander had your wit to match."

"Oh, of course! I'm the handsomest, most wittiest devil you'll find for miles around," he quipped with a wink and swept a hand over his hair, the ends of which sparkled with droplets of spring water. "Sometimes a little _too_  much for my own good...but I digress." He returned his hand to his side with a flourish. "Hmm. Lady Evelyn Trevelyan of...Ostwick, is it?"

Evelyn nodded. "And you are Dorian...?"

"Pavus," he supplied. "Not-so-recently of Minrathous."

She frowned a moment, and then raised her brows. "Color me surprised! Never did I expect to meet a distant relative from Tevinter."

Dorian laughed. "I was wondering if you'd recognize the name! Good memory."

"Same to you; noble families are so tangled, it's a miracle we can still pick apart who's who."

He shook his head. "Maker, I hated that part of my education the most."

"Oh goodness, so did I."

"The long hours, reciting list after list..."

"Stop it, I can only get so traumatized!"

They shared a laugh. "This reminds me," Evelyn said when they were done, "I'd actually heard of you before, just not your family name...yes, the mustached Tevinter mage who helped defeat Magister Alexius. Funny and sarcastic you were, even in the face of danger."

"And to whom do I owe such a glowing review?" Dorian asked, intrigued.

Evelyn nodded in Ahnnie's direction. "And as one mage to another, I must say, it was awfully impressive of you to have undone that time spell under such constraints. I can't imagine how it was even conceived of in the first place, much less reversed."

"Ah, well...Tevinter's luck," he chuckled. "How else can we accomplish our diabolical schemes?"

"But, truly, to achieve such a spell...the Magister must have bent the Fade itself to make it work."

"Nothing a nation of half-crazed blood mages can't achieve."

She couldn't help but chortle at that. "Was it difficult, though? To join the Inquisition, that is. You'd have thought I'd sent Andraste to her pyre from the letters my father sent; I can't imagine your family being overjoyed at the news."

All of a sudden, Dorian's pleasant face turned into a grimace. "Yes, about that...I haven't been in good standing with them for quite some time. So it wasn't difficult to join, per se, but...let's just say I've only been able to make inferences as to their reactions."

"Oh. I'm sorry." Evelyn sighed. "Sometimes there's just no pleasing them."

"Indeed," Dorian agreed. "It's almost always disownment or petty, drawn-out badgering, you know; there simply is no winning."

"How very true. But we're here now, aren't we?" Evelyn felt a crick in her neck and rolled her head to alleviate it. She saw Varric cleaning out his pony's hooves as her head turned and remembered there were more important things to tend to than small talk. "Do you need any help with your feisty mount?" she then asked. "Might as well make the most of the time we have left to get ready."

"Oh, you know a way to make it less stubborn?"

"No," Evelyn chuckled, "but I can swap horses with you. Contrary to what the Commander might believe, I can take a rocky road or two."

"You would? Splendid!" He clapped her jovially on the back as they walked over to the palomino. "I knew I'd find a kindred spirit in you."

"Well, we all need one, don't we?"

* * *

 

"Happy birthday to me...I'm one-hundred and three...I smell like a monkey..."

 _And I just forgot the rest,_ Ahnnie thought with a bit of a sigh.

She rolled from her back onto her stomach to hug the cloak she used as a pillow, and stared contemplatively into the fire. It was a tranquil night, illuminated by the stars and peppered with the sounds of small talk and crackling firewood. The Iron Bull was cracking some sort of joke to Varric, Dorian and Evelyn were musing over things they held in common, while Cullen kept to himself and Solas had decided to retire early so as to take on the next watch.

"No you don't."

Ahnnie looked up to find Cole sitting next to her bedroll. "It's just a song," she chuckled. "I'm not a hundred and three, either."

"But it is your birthday?"

She traced a little pattern into the dirt. "Yeah...or at least, I  _think_  it's my birthday. Justinian is the Thedosian name of my birth month, but judging by the difference in months here, I can't tell if it'd still be Justinian, or August?"

"Hmm."

Bull suddenly guffawed at something, drowning out the volume of the campfire for a moment. When his laughter died down, Ahnnie sighed again and propped her head in her palms. "Guess you don't know your own birthday? Or how old you are?"

Cole grew thoughtful for a moment, before shaking his head. "No, I don't...I don't know."

 _Well, a birthday means he would've been born at some point, so I guess that makes sense..._ It never occurred to her that Cole could be decades, perhaps even centuries, older than her until now. "You look as old as me," she offered, "give or take a few years." He took the observation with a shrug and continued staring into the fire. She gave up the point and rolled onto her back to face the stars.

"It's slippery. One moment it feels like forever; another, and it's gone. Rushing, slowing, in one place then suddenly elsewhere...stealing up from behind like a thief, yet standing straight ahead at the same time..."

"Or you could just say, 'Time is weird'," she suggested amusedly. Her eyes followed a cluster of stars, trying to see if they could trace a constellation. She found four that connected into a vertical trapezoid and tilted her head to study the ones below them. "Aha! Voyager!" she exclaimed, reveling in the satisfaction of having found the ship-shaped constellation. She was aware of a proper Ancient Tevene name, but it was a tad too complicated to pronounce. "Enough on me, though..." She rolled onto her side. "Tell me about you...about your friends. What were they like?"

He looked at her a moment before turning away again. "Why do you always want to know about me?"

The question took her aback. "B-because you're...interesting?" She shook her head before she could stutter something more embarrassing. "Sorry, is it...too much?"

It took him a while to answer, which made her feel even worse. "It's like Rhys."

"Rhys?" she echoed.

"My friend." He fiddled with his fingers as his eyes took on that distant look she'd seen back at Skyhold. "Some of the mages at the Spire wanted to die. Too sad, too scared...too much. I didn't know what I was...a ghost, I thought. Fading in the Fade. When I came to them, they could see me. I used a knife to set them free. When Rhys found out, he made me stop, made me understand."

Ahnnie's inquisitive gaze grew troubled as the implication set in. "You...killed the mages?"

"There were other ways to help," Cole put in. "I didn't know."

He was no stranger to killing or combat, that was for certain. But this seemed different than that. This seemed as if he had put the knife to the mages in their most vulnerable moments... _he_ killed  _them to help them..._ but perhaps it was because he didn't know any better...?

"I knew," he interrupted her. "I just thought I had to. They were hurting, helpless, haunted...it was all I could do." He shook his head. "It was wrong. _I_  was wrong. If I start again, you or Cassandra or Cullen need to kill me."

Ahnnie gasped and flapped her mouth open and closed in several attempts to answer. "I-I'm sure we don't need to do that," she blurted at last, the memory of fighting him in Redcliffe intrusively resurfacing. "Rhys...you were talking about Rhys?"

"He was a mage," Cole answered, and she thanked the Maker when his eyes grew distant again. "He saw me when most couldn't, and he...remembered. He helped me, and I watched over him. I worried Evangeline would hurt him."

Somewhere along the way, he had pulled his bedroll over and laid down on his stomach as he recounted the details. Like mischievous children whispering secrets, they lay before the fire to hear the tale given in hushed tones. Cryptic though his words could be, Ahnnie gathered that Rhys and Evangeline (an unlikely duo at that, mage and templar) adventured with Cole after some trouble in the Spire to the Adamant Fortress in the Western Approach. For what reason, Cole didn't divulge, but they found demons there and saved Cole from 'a cupboard on the bad day'. Their rapport fell apart, however, when Lord Seeker Lambert told him what he was. Lambert had been upset at what they had found in Adamant and was determined to stop them...even Rhys didn't accept him after that...

"Lambert killed so many, he didn't care...cold, corrupt. So I came and killed him."

And that was that. A tale that began with blood and ended with blood. Ahnnie looked from his haunted eyes to the flickering fire again, not knowing what to say. "I'm so sorry," she murmured at last. "But you're with us now, so..." She placed a comforting hand on his elbow and smiled. "Maybe if we see Rhys and Evangeline again, we could explain? Where do you think they'd be?"

"They should have been with the rebels," Cole confessed, "but maybe they ran away together instead. Neither of them liked killing."

"Perhaps I could ask Leliana to find them–"

"No," he almost snapped. "If they are alive and safe, they should stay away. Let them forget."

Ahnnie's hand slipped away as she mumbled an apology. But it felt most unfair, especially since Cole still remembered them fondly, almost wistfully. Perhaps she could do some digging on her own later...at the moment, something clicked in her memory after running the story over for a second time in her head. "Is the Spire in Orlais?"

"Yes, Val Royeaux."

"And Rhys was a Senior Enchanter?"

"I think so..."

"I'm reading his book!" She turned excitedly towards Cole. "You can read, right? I could give it to you. It's about Fade denizens, but knowing that it's from him might help you feel closer." Then she remembered one important thing. "It's back at Skyhold, so I guess you'll have to wait...unless..." She frowned. "We could go through the Fade to take a peek at what I've read?"

"You want to travel there, like you do with Solas," Cole surmised.

"Yeah...and you could show me what Rhys and Evangeline look like," Ahnnie suggested hopefully.

" _No_ ," Solas loudly grumbled from his bedroll, surprising them both. "Another word of that, da'len, and I'll slip a potion in your food that'll give you insomnia for a week. Don't even think about trying after I'm 'asleep', either," he added for good measure, his groggy voice intimidating regardless of fatigue.

Ahnnie and Cole exchanged meek glances before she burst out in suppressed giggles. "Sorry, hahren! I promise I won't. Now...don't let me get in the way of your rest; I know how important sleep is at your age..."

She narrowly dodged the incoming pinecone and rolled about her bedroll with laughter. Cole chuckled too and remarked to her, "We'd best listen to what he says. He thinks you're not fit enough to enter the Fade without someone stronger."

"Okay," she wheezed, "but what about you?"

"I can go, but I'm a spirit. I know what to do. You're human and you don't know, not quite yet, anyway."

Ahnnie sighed and gently flipped herself onto her back. "Then I'll just dream the normal way for now. The stars are nice tonight; maybe I can make it to another constellation before I tucker out..." She yawned. "I should shut up before I get carried away...night, Cole."

"Good night," he returned, and snuggled into the roll. He watched her eyes awhile as they searched amongst the stars, curious and determined yet sabotaged by sleepy lids, and eventually, without knowing, he gave in to his own.

* * *

 

The weather turned sour when they finally reached Crestwood. It was hastily growing dark and Ahnnie was grateful for the proximity of their destination, but a look at the stormy lake nearby dampened her hopes of a relaxing evening after a dusty week of travel.

"A rift in the lake?" Cullen exclaimed after seeing the sickly green lights boiling on the water. "Looks like we'll be having trouble..."

When they made it to their camp, the reports were even worse. "We've got undead on our hands," the Commander told them grimly.

" _Undead_!?" Ahnnie screamed. Cullen frowned at her, so she resumed, quieter, "Undead? As in,  _zombies_?"

"I'm not familiar with that term, but after the rift appeared corpses started walking out of the lake."

"So zombies," she concluded unhappily.

"Wasn't Crestwood the site of a flood during the Fifth Blight?" Evelyn asked with a tilt of her head. "The appearance of a rift may have allowed demons access to the bodies..."

"It never is a good idea to open the Fade in a place of death," Solas put in thoughtfully.

"At any rate, we'll have to go through them if we want to reach the caves where Sir Hawke's informant is hiding," Cullen continued. "That would mean getting to the rift in the lake; cut the disturbance at its source, and we're free to move."

"Nifty plan," Varric commented. "Let's just put on our swimsuits and go for a nice dive, eh? Can't be  _that_ deep."

"I heard you and the scout discussing a keep," Dorian interjected. "I saw it on our way here and it's quite close to the lake, with a dam, no less. Perhaps someone there knows an inkling of what to do?"

"Caer Bronach was overrun by bandits during the chaos after the rift appeared," Cullen sighed. "Otherwise, I'd have first sent to the keep for help. We could conduct an assault to take it back, but let's not jump to conclusions yet. Our first objective is the rift. Dorian and Evelyn, go with the Iron Bull and Inquisitor to the village below and see if you can find any answers; report back your findings, and if need be, we'll move out tonight."

Ahnnie watched with a sinking heart as the other three dispersed to prepare for the drudging walk down the hill to the village. But beyond that was a nagging question borne from the shock of the first news: "Have any of the undead, um...approached the camp? Just in case we don't go out tonight and sleep here instead," she hastily added.

"An occasional shambler here and there," Cullen reported nonchalantly. "Nothing to worry about. Most of them head for the village."

She waited until she had exited the tent to groan and pull her face into her hands... _Great. Just great._

* * *

 

" _Zom-bee._ Such a funny word!"

"Ugh, stop it, Dorian...it's not funny to me..."

"Is it the word for undead in your language, boss?" Bull asked curiously.

"Not...really." Ahnnie flicked more rainwater off her hood. "It's a borrowed term from another culture."

"It sounds like something Max would have babbled as a toddler," Evelyn remarked. "Makes the thought of undead seem less gruesome to me."

Ahnnie gripped her glaive uncomfortably and scanned the dark countryside around them with suspicious eyes. "Okay, but they can't turn you into a zombie by biting you, right? Or eat you alive?"

She could tell the mages were struggling to suppress their amusement, as their shivering shoulders indicated. "You can't 'turn' undead by being bitten," Evelyn clarified. "But an undead's disposition is very much dependent on what demon possesses it. So yes, they could eat you alive, if they're possessed by hunger demons–"

"Yes, that's enough, thanks," Ahnnie hastily mumbled.

They could just make out the outline of a wooden gate in the rainy gloom after what felt like an eternity of walking. Glowing orange spots dotted the slick ground ahead, prefaced by a rancid salty old smell like rotten smoked meat. She pulled up the collar of her cowl to her nose and dry heaved into the cloth, the other hand holding out her glaive defensively in case the cause of those smells should come uncomfortably close.

The village guards challenged them defensively when they came to the fringe of the carnage. Shriveled corpses lay before them like scattered confetti, some burning, all contorted in grotesque positions. Impossibly enough, a few of them held rusty blades in their putrefied grips. Ahnnie's hold on her own weapon tightened at the sight, and then it happened.

One of them grabbed her by the ankle.

She shot up like a firecracker, screaming bloody murder as she stomped and stomped to get it off. The thing was strong, and even worse, it moaned with every slap of its decayed body onto the muddy ground. Its other hand clawed into the dirt to pull the rest of itself closer, but it had barely inched a centimeter when the Iron Bull slammed it away with his hammer like a bat.

"Boss!" he yelled when she didn't stop her wild jumping. "It's gone!"

"It's still on me," she shuddered, and lifted up her boot to show him the decapitated forearm attached to her ankle. Then she screamed again.

The guards looked at each other, and then one of them came up with their sword raised. "Hold still," he instructed Ahnnie, and with a swift slash the limb was split between the thumb and index. It hit the ground with a thick squelch and twitched lightly before going still.

She sank into Evelyn's arms heaving and sobbing. The guard sheathed his sword and looked about their party curiously, wary of the Iron Bull in particular. "What brings you to our village?" he demanded of them, albeit with less of an edge than before.

"Inquisition business," Dorian answered, fingering the symbol on his cloak clasp. "We're here for the rift on the lake."

"Thank the Maker!" The other guard rushed up to his colleague at this and hastily ushered them past the corpses and into the gates. "The mayor could use your assistance; his house is the largest, up on that hill. It's been hell these past few weeks!"

"The corpses are coming from where Old Crestwood used to be," the other guard remarked dourly. "Amount of people we lost back during the Blight, I'm not surprised."

"If you're here, we can finally get this over with. Did the Inquisitor come?"

Dorian smiled and indicated the disconsolate girl behind him with a sidelong glance.

"Oh..."

As they ventured into the village, the distant groans of more undead shambling towards the gate echoed from the darkness, and the guards summarily resumed their positions. The village before them was empty, with every visible entryway on each house boarded up or locked. An occasional guard would stumble across them, but when shown their clasps, would direct them closer to the mayor's house. Only once did there seem to be a hint of civilian life, and that was when a little eye peered at them through the peephole of a boarded window before blinking away into nothing.

They climbed the staircase up the hill and deposited themselves in front of a wooden door. Bull raised a fist and knocked on it three times, then bellowed, "Inquisition!"

The door opened a crack and a mousy middle-aged man scrutinized them carefully, finally resting on Ahnnie. With a start, she stammered, "M-mayor of Crestwood?"

"Inquisitor?" he returned. When she showed him her left palm, he opened the door a bit wider and beckoned them inside. "I apologize for the lack of manners; Mayor Dedrick of Crestwood Village. At your service, despite...everything." When they'd all entered, he shut the door and bolted it several times. "Is there anything I can offer you?" he asked as he turned to them. "Some hot food, or drink?"

"We're fine," Ahnnie assured him as firmly as she could. Her voice still trembled from the shock. "We're only stopping a bit to speak with you."

"Ah," he nodded. With a nervous lick of his lips, he asked next, "Are you...here to stop the undead?"

She wondered if he noticed the little gulp that went down her throat. "Yes. We are."

"The Inquisitor wishes to seal the nearby Fade rift to stop the undead from plaguing you," Evelyn volunteered to explain after noticing her unease. "Do you know of a way to get to it?"

A flash of recognition passed through Dedrick's eyes. "The light on the lake? It's coming from the caves below Old Crestwood. Darkspawn flooded it ten years ago during the Blight, you see. It wiped out the village, killing the refugees we took in..."

"We're aware of the history," Evelyn assured him.

"As for reaching it..." Dedrick gave a sad heave of his shoulders. "It's not possible. The light is too far out, over one of the deepest parts of the water. Worse, the caves there are completely submerged."

Dorian exchanged a glance with Evelyn, to which she responded with a resigned shrug. "Well then, I suppose that leaves us the option of draining the lake," the Tevinter mage decided.

Dedrick jolted as though poked by a cattle prod. "Drain the – there must be some other way!"

"There's not," Bull groused, and the startled mayor appeared even more startled when he seemed to take notice of his largest house guest for the first time. "There's really not. Not unless you're fine with having undead show up at your doorsteps for the next ten years."

"You'd have to evict the bandits in the old fort to use the dam," Dedrick pointed out. "I can't ask you to risk your life!"

"We came prepared," Bull chuckled. "The Commander's got a small troop ready to move out nearby. All we gotta do is send the word."

Mayor Dedrick's eyes flickered over each of them in a silent plea to persuade them otherwise. Ahnnie felt bad, and felt even guiltier when his eyes begged her last, but all she could do was smile comfortingly. "It's the only way to reach the rift."

He looked as though he'd been sucker punched in the stomach, but eventually steeled himself back into regaining composure. "I..." He coughed. "I suppose it must come to this." He reached into his collar and pulled off a chain from around his neck, then handed it to her. "This key unlocks the gate to the dam controls past the fort. Again, you should find the rift in the caves beneath the old village. But, Inquisitor," he hurriedly added, "I would not linger there."

She accepted the key and wrapped the chain around her own neck with a grimace. "I don't intend to."

 

\------------------------------------------

 

**=Author's Note=**

So it was Halloween, right? I was just having a good ol' time trick-or-treating like the grownass woman-child I am, when my cousin sent me this:

 

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

 

"Guess who I'm going as?" she texts...and then she sends me these:

 

[](https://imgbb.com/)

(Pardon the messiness, she's not the neatest)

 

I WAS SO SUPER STOKED. LIKE OMG. SHE ACTUALLY DECIDED TO DO THIS. Unfortunately, she couldn't make the Anchor in time, so I can't show you that :<. She did get a sword prop so I guess this is Ahnnie full regalia with the short sword:

 

 

And that's all she was willing to share. Thank you for reading, and hope you had a happy holiday season!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Also, I am basing Rhys' stance toward Cole on what Cole says when you ask for his past. I misplaced my copy of Asunder so I can't confirm if Rhys still thought of Cole as a friend after Lambert's reveal, but what Cole says: "The last time he [Rhys] saw me, he didn't want to look at me; he saw a monster", sort of implies the opposite, at least from his perspective.


End file.
